


A Year With You

by LadyThatch902



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Excessive Drinking, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, IronStrange, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Harassment, Slow Burn, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:27:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 113,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27484243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyThatch902/pseuds/LadyThatch902
Summary: Taking a year off before med school, Stephen moves to a new town. What he doesn't expect is meeting and falling in love with the most impossible man he has met to date - Tony Stark.Post-college AU. Everyone's scrawny. And everyone works at the same restaurant.
Relationships: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Comments: 441
Kudos: 215





	1. Hello

_I could stick around and get along with you, hello._  
_It doesn't really mean that I'm into you, hello._  
_You're alright but I'm here, darling, to enjoy the party._  
_Don't get too excited 'cause that's all you get from me, hey._  
_Yeah I think you're cute, but really you should know._  
_I just came to say hello_  
\- Martin Solveig & Dragonette

“Order up, idiot!” 

Stephen heard the chef tap the bell incessantly. He didn’t know what he had done to deserve Tony’s wrath, but he was certainly feeling it in the middle of his first dinner rush alone. 

“I’m coming,” he said more to himself than to anyone else. Checking his notepad for the last time, he was confident he had gotten the order correct and pressed ‘send’ on the computer. The ringing of the bell paused as an audible groan rose from the kitchen. The ticket he had just sent was long and full of modifications. 

As he walked through the doorway to the kitchen he felt the heat rise in his cheeks. Tony was glaring at him, his brow furrowed while his dark brown eyes followed Stephen to the expediting station.

“Food’s getting cold,” Tony said with a steely voice. 

“Good thing it’s underneath a heat lamp,” Stephen muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” Tony quipped back, but they were interrupted by another loud sigh from Clint. He held out the ticket, squinting.

“What is this, Strange? What did we ever do to you to deserve this?” Clint frowned and lined up the ticket behind the rest. It was seven o’clock on a Friday, and the orders were coming in steadily. The last thing they needed was a large order with changes to every single entree. 

“Crowd from the city, you know what they’re like,” Stephen shot a pointed look at Tony who pretended not to notice. 

“Yeah, bunch of douchebags,” Rhodey agreed from the grilling station. Tony stopped what he was plating to slap Rhodey with a towel. 

“Keep it up and you’ll be on grease trap duty this month,” Tony threatened with a point of his finger. 

“Yes _chef_ ,” Rhodey taunted back. Stephen took the opportunity to take his plates quickly and get out of the kitchen. As he made his way back to the floor, Tony called out to him.

“Don’t fuck it up again, Strange!"

* * *

It had been a rough few weeks. He’d moved to a small town in central New York to live with his childhood best friend, Christine. She was in her last year of pre-med at an ivy league university. When she complained about needing to find a new roommate, Stephen leapt at the chance to move out of his parents’ home in Nebraska. 

After he graduated from college he moved home. It wasn’t the most ideal situation. His parents were disappointed that he didn’t immediately continue on to medical school and it caused a lot of arguments over the summer. Why didn’t he just apply? Why didn’t he intern at a doctor’s office? Why was he working at a goddamn _restaurant_?

The truth was Stephen needed a fucking break. For four years he worked tirelessly to get those good grades, to learn everything he could, to graduate on time. He’d gotten a full scholarship to a local university and graduated in the top percentile. By the time he’d reached his senior year his mental health had declined so much he considered checking himself into a mental institution. However, he knew his parents didn’t have the kind of money to support that - so he did what every good college student did and drank his feelings away. 

For the first time in his life he almost flunked a semester. Under the tutelage of one professor who actually cared about him, he managed to scrape by and pass. It was embarrassing, and even though he maintained a high GPA, the mark on his record would haunt him forever. All of it was too much pressure. 

He was so excited and relieved to move in with Christine. They’d grown up near each other, spent all of their time together. When she became a sophomore she stayed for the summers too. Stephen visited her, once. It was fun, from what he could remember, and the fraternity parties were much different from the house parties he attended at his college. Ivy league students were just _different_. 

She had started working at a local restaurant to pay for her apartment. From what Stephen could gather, it was run by a recent graduate student, Pepper, and most of the employees were college-aged kids or freshly graduated. The head chef had recently been fired and now the kitchen was competing for the title. Unfortunately, all of them were close friends and it spurred a lot of tension and weird competitions. However, Tony was the only real contender as the sous chef. The job could be his if Pepper would ever let him have it. 

Stephen applied to be a server and got the job before he even walked in. Christine had sung his praises and Pepper was ecstatic to hire someone who actually had experience. He didn’t see how his serving experience at a little podunk restaurant in Nebraska qualified him to serve at a place that was practically fine dining, but he needed a job, so he took it. 

Christine had warned him about the kitchen. During his training he noticed it, too - the staff was crass and overtly sexual. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. He’d worked in restaurants before; cooks and chefs were notorious for being lewd assholes. But the cooks at _Bella’s_ _Bar & Restaurant_ were a special type of breed that Stephen couldn’t exactly pin a name on. 

He met Tony first. Pepper had sat him in her office to fill out his new hire paperwork when the door swung open. A man in his early twenties stood there, an invoice in his hand, his anger apparent. Stephen couldn’t help but notice he had the smoothest looking brown hair, even if it was shoved underneath a backwards baseball cap. He had the prettiest eyes Stephen had ever seen. His eye lashes were so long and thick Stephen could make out the bottom row of lashes from his seat. Even though he was wearing a baggy kitchen uniform, the bottom half of his pants had been trimmed off below the knee to reveal muscular calves. Stephen was quite curious to know what his upper body looked like unclothed. His broad shoulders and flat stomach suggested the prognosis was good. 

“Knock much?” Pepper, ever prim and proper, turned slowly in her chair to acknowledge the man blocking her doorway. Her blonde hair draped over her shoulder and she quickly moved it behind her ear.

“I ordered tenderloin,” the man said shortly. 

“And?” 

“They sent _sirloin_ ,” he said, flapping the invoice in her face. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with that??”

“Cook it, probably,” Pepper said coolly, ignoring the vein that was popping in the man’s forehead. It took all of Stephen’s might to hold back the tickle in his throat, but he couldn’t stop it - he interrupted the tense moment with a dry cough. “Oh, I’m sorry, Stephen. This is Tony, our _sous_ chef.” 

Stephen stood and held out his hand but Tony took one look at him and sneered.

“Looks like you’ll need to reprint the menus,” he said, and left before Pepper could object. She rolled her eyes and slumped in her chair.

“He isn’t normally like that,” Pepper apologized, “But the head chef recently quit, so they’re all a bit on edge.” 

Pepper was being perfectly diplomatic, Christine had told him a different story. The head chef, Obediah Stane, had been working there since the restaurant opened twenty years ago. Pepper took over after the owner decided to be more hands-off (retire, but still get the money) and the restaurant actually flourished. Pepper was a true business woman, bringing new life into the old restaurant. Stane didn’t like the changes that Pepper was making - new menu items, trendy cocktails, new uniforms and new operating procedures - and gave the owner an ultimatum. Him or Pepper. The owner chose Pepper. 

When Stephen was introduced to the kitchen crew, he wasn’t prepared for the complete and utter chaos. It wasn’t even time for service yet and already the kitchen was loud. Rap music was blaring from a shitty Bluetooth speaker duct taped to a shelf, the cooks were jumping up and down screaming the lyrics at the top of their lungs, and they didn’t notice when Pepper slinked into the kitchen, Stephen hiding behind her. 

_X gon' give it to ya (What?)_

_Fuck waitin' for you to get it on your own_

_X gon' deliver to ya (Uh)_

_Knock knock, open up the door, it's real_

_With the non-stop, pop pop of stainless steel_

_Go hard, getting busy with it (Ooh)_

“Hey,” Pepper said impatiently. She tapped her foot a few times, the sound getting lost in the rubber mat beneath her stilettos. “ _HEY_! Turn that shit down!”

A cook with a mohawk finally noticed her and lowered the volume using a remote. 

“Hey, that was my jam,” another cook pouted. “Oh, hi Pep.”

“Rhodey, I’d appreciate it if you kept your _jam_ to a more tolerable level,” Pepper took the clipboard she was holding and set it on the shelf separating her and Tony. He took it and flipped through the pages while she continued to speak. “Other people work here too. Like Stephen.”

Stephen peeked out from behind Pepper to wave timidly. Four pairs of eyes were on him. 

“Hi, I’m Clint,” the cook with mohawk waved. “That’s Rhodey, Pepper likes to yell at him because he’s black.”

“I do _not_ ,” Pepper flushed. 

“Yeah Pepper, why don’t you like to yell at me, too?” The man standing near the dishwasher asked.

“Because you’re such a good worker, Sam,” she said delicately, smiling in his direction. Her face became serious again as she faced Tony. “We have twenty reservations tonight. Christine will be showing Stephen the ropes, I expect all of you to be on your best behavior.” 

“Exactly twenty?” Tony said skeptically, handing the clipboard back. “Seems a bit…”

“Odd?” Rhodey chimed in.

“I was going to say ‘even’,” Tony smirked. 

“We have nineteen on the books, but by the time we open, I expect we will have at _least_ twenty,” Pepper furiously wrote something on her clipboard. “Don’t be a cock.”

“But I thought you loved my cock,” Tony said in a low voice, a filthy grin plastered across his face. Stephen couldn’t help but feel affected by his words and he tried to look anywhere else. Pepper didn’t grant him with a response, simply turning to head back out into the dining room. Stephen quickly followed. As the swinging doors closed behind him, he heard a chorus of wolf whistles and hollering. 

“Are they really that bad?” Stephen asked Christine as they started on their opening duties. She pulled out a giant tub of silverware, and their task was to polish each and every piece, and then sort it. He told her about his experience in the kitchen earlier, and she shook her head. 

“If you’re okay with relentless verbal sexual harassment, you’ll be fine,” Christine picked up a fork and began to wipe it with a rag.

“Doesn’t it get old? Like, aren’t you offended in the slightest?” Stephen was concerned that maybe this job wasn’t for him, but Christine had gone out on a limb to get him this job. “I mean, as a woman, do you feel safe around them?” 

“Stephen, they’re harmless. I party with them all the time and they would _never_ cross that line,” Christine reassured him. “I suppose it is worse, you being a man…”

“What do you mean?” 

“They hit on Steve the hardest,” Christine nodded towards the server captain, Steve Rogers. He was an impeccably good looking man. His hair was perfectly coiffed in the style of a 1940s film star, his cheekbones high, and his face clear of any blemishes. Everything about the man was straight - his legs seemed to go for days, meeting at thin and slender waist, but his shoulders were so broad and muscular they threatened to rip out of his tailored shirt at every turn. Stephen thought he might want to ask him out but Christine quickly dashed his hopes. “He’s a tidbit homophobic so they like to make him feel uncomfortable.”

His disappointment was written all over his face.

“Oh, like not in the bad way,” she pressed on, like there was a good way. Stephen was no stranger to homophobia. He came from a tiny town in the middle of nowhere and as far as they were concerned, he wasn’t even out. “He’s just not as secure in his sexuality as the others. And they are _open_ . And straight. Except for Carol. But don’t worry. This is a progressive city; you’d be hard pressed to find an _actual_ homophobe here. This is like gay mecca for the Finger Lakes region.” 

She walked away to put the silverware in its proper place and he suddenly found himself without anything to do. He looked around the dining room - water glasses were placed, the tables were set, and candles were waiting to be lit. 

“Hey you -” a voice called out from the bar. “New kid!”

Stephen looked over to see who he knew to be the bar manager, Bruce. He wore a lovely purple shirt and had such an endearing face. Stephen guessed it was a horrifying sight if he ever got angry because he looked so pleasant otherwise. 

“I’m Stephen.”

“Hi Stephen. I need like, thirty lemons from the walk-in fridge, but I’m in the middle of something,” Bruce nodded towards the bar. He was straining several concoctions at once and making sure the containers didn’t overflow. It wasn’t efficient, but it seemed he did this all the time. “Do you think you could grab them for me?”

“Sure,” Stephen wanted to be of help so he headed off towards the kitchen. Part of him dreaded it - he was waiting for the cat calls, for the snide remarks. He had to grin and bear it for Christine. He took a deep breath as he approached the swinging doors, but they opened before he could push. 

A terrifying man came barreling through. His scraggly black hair clung to his unshaven face, his piercing blue eyes zeroing in on Stephen like a brand new target. 

“Watch where you’re going, fuckface! Knock before you enter,” He huffed, before pushing past Stephen. “Fucking newbie.” 

“Oh yeah, knock before you come through or someone might take you out,” Tony said from behind the line. He smirked as Stephen gathered his wits.

“Who was that?” 

“Bucky. You’ll work with him this weekend. Don’t let his attitude get to you - that’s how he flirts.” 

“Ah,” Stephen said, and he couldn’t tell if Tony was joking or not. 

“You looking for something, hotshot?” 

“Lemons?”

Tony led him to the back of the kitchen. There was a small hallway - the door straight ahead led to the alleyway, the door to the left was the walk-in freezer, and the door to the right was the walk-in refrigerator. 

“You can’t get locked in,” Tony explained. “There’s a glow in the dark door knob on the inside. Just turn it until it falls out, and then you can open it. Y’know, in case someone actually _does_ lock you in there.” 

“Does that happen often?” Stephen said timidly. Tony was holding the door open for him, and he walked into the narrowest fridge he had ever seen. The shelves were packed to the ceiling and he shuffled in, looking for the produce. 

“Just as a hazing ritual,” Tony said casually. “Oh wait, I need something too.” 

Stephen sharply inhaled. There was not enough room for two people to be there at the same time, and all of sudden he felt intensely claustrophobic. Tony didn’t notice, as he edged closer and closer to Stephen, his eyes scanning the shelves. Stephen still hadn’t found the lemons when the lights went out. 

“Very funny guys,” Tony said in total darkness. “Turn the light back on. Fucking safety hazard.” 

Giggles could be heard through the other side of the door, but Stephen could barely hear it over the sound of blood thumping in his ears. He wasn’t sure where Tony was and he wasn’t about to go bumping into him. Stephen backed up, but not before tripping over a bucket placed poorly in the middle of the floor. His instinct was to reach out and grab the first thing available to him and that happened to be Tony’s arm.

“Whoa!” Tony quickly grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and pulled him up. He was strong. When Stephen was upright, he realized he was facing Tony. He could feel his entire body, their backs pressed into the shelves behind them. He could feel Tony’s breath on his cheek. He could feel… well, either Tony had a cucumber in his pocket or Stephen was feeling something else pulsing against his leg. He didn’t acknowledge it. He couldn’t. 

The lights flickered on and Tony’s eyes raked over Stephen’s face, landing on his lips. Tony smiled, wetting his own lips with his tongue. The next thing out of Tony’s mouth would be the beginning of everything. 

“We’re gonna fuck one day, aren’t we?” 


	2. Just My Type

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen's second day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Love the way he plays with my head  
>  He lets me down  
> Then gets me high  
> Oh I don't know why  
> He's just my type  
> _  
> \- The Vamps

“Tony isn’t gay,” Christine said flatly. She let her purse hit the counter with a  _ thud _ and went to check out the contents of their fridge. Stephen had filled her in on the encounter in the walk-in on their drive home and she wasn’t convinced. “He can’t be! He’s a playboy through and through.”

“Playboys can play with boys too,” Stephen said as he took off his shoes. His feet were aching - he bought new shoes to fit the dressing criteria and he hadn’t broken them in yet. Giving his sole a quick rub, he flopped onto the couch while Christine handed him an ice cold beer. “You didn’t hear how he said it. The tone of his voice was just… sultry.” 

She also didn’t see how Tony looked at him. His eyes seemed dilated, and the way he licked his lips… 

“You gotta be careful with the kitchen boys. They flirt with anything that can fog a mirror,” Christine sat on the other end of the couch and raised her beer bottle. “To your first night in hell.”

“Cheers.” 

Christine went to bed shortly after she finished her drink. She was juggling a lot - working at the restaurant a couple of nights a week and finishing her last year of pre-med. Stephen didn’t envy her schedule at all. Like him, her parents lacked the funds to pay for schooling. Unfortunately unlike him, she didn’t get a full ride scholarship and chose to go to one of the most expensive schools in the country. She joked that Stephen could pay less in rent if he helped her study, but if anything, he felt obligated to pay more. 

This also meant that she couldn’t train him the next day. Instead, he was going to spend the evening with Steve Rogers, affectionately known as the Captain or ‘Cap’. At first, Stephen was intimidated at the thought - but after watching him on the floor, he knew he’d be in good hands. Every movement Rogers made was carefully calculated. He anticipated the needs of his guests, drowned them with his charm and charisma, and even had enough energy leftover to help out other servers. He was an excellent leader. 

Stephen let his brain melt while he drank another beer and half-watched the television. He put on a mindless show and slowly compartmentalized his day. Overall, it had been good. He felt familiar and confident with how the restaurant ran. The menu was no problem - his eidetic memory helped with that. His only real concern was the other employees, and in particular, the cooks. 

He’d never been great with people. He was extremely fortunate that Christine was his best friend and proximity might have had something to do with that. For whatever reason she latched onto him since that first day they met in third grade and he would be forever grateful. 

But  _ Bella’s _ was Christine’s territory. Hell, this whole town was her territory. He couldn’t fuck it up by being her weird friend from the boonhicks. He had to be likeable and sociable, two things he had failed at thus far. Even if he met people he liked he always fucked it up by over analyzing his own insecurities. His old trick had been to try to impress his peers with his impressive breadth of knowledge (mostly useful in trivia) and his ability to name any song (along with the year and artist) at the drop of the hat. He was a one trick pony. He couldn’t keep anyone entertained long enough to maintain a friendship. Thankfully, he always had Christine. 

He climbed into bed around two in the morning. He wasn’t tired - far from it - and his brain was running at full speed trying to figure out the one person who confused him thoroughly. What did that interaction with Tony even mean? 

Was he joking? Why would he joke about that? He said it like a statement, like it was true. And god, the way he made Stephen feel… Christine laughed when he told her he simply ran out of the walk in after Tony said that. Stephen didn’t say anything to him, just pushed past and he had to run by Clint, Rhodey, and Sam to escape. He could hear them laughing as he ran into the dining room, completely forgetting to grab the lemons Bruce had asked for. 

He avoided Tony’s gaze for the rest of the night, and luckily, he and Christine were the first servers to get cut. They got to leave as soon as dinner died down which meant Stephen didn’t have to see any of the cooks for the grueling task of closing. But tomorrow - or later that day, really - he wouldn’t have the shield of Christine. He would shadow Rogers but considering how much the kitchen loved to fuck with the server captain, he wasn’t looking forward to it. 

Maybe he had to get ahead of this thing, clarify what was said before anyone developed misconceptions. Maybe Tony was joking, maybe it was a genuine thought. Maybe Tony wasn’t gay after all. If Stephen cleared the air, it would save a lot of time by not misconstruing things later. He planned out the dialogue in his head - he would just ask Tony straight up what he meant by that. No big deal if Tony didn’t mean it. If Tony meant it, Stephen would just have to turn him down, gently. It was the only thought that placated his troubled mind as he drifted off into an uneasy sleep. He would speak to Tony, and everything would be alright.

  
  


“Ready for tonight, big guy?”

Rogers thumped him on the back as they approached the restaurant. Stephen met him as they crossed the street together. 

“Of course,” Stephen smiled. 

“Christine said you’re a fast learner, so I’m not too worried about you. I’ll take the first couple of tables, but after that, we’ll see how you run solo,” Rogers held open the door for him.

“Sounds good.” 

The waitstaff always arrived an hour before service. They would spend half an hour setting up and getting ready, and then the entire restaurant would sit down and eat a staff meal before opening for the night. It was an opportunity for the menu to be explained for the evening, covering specials from the kitchen and the bar alike. 

Stephen sidled into the kitchen hoping not to draw attention to himself. He was relieved to discover that no one was in there, and he could head to the wall of lockers unperturbed. The cooks always arrived hours before anyone else, so it was a little bizarre - but Stephen was learning not to question too many things and went ahead to put his items away. 

“You lookin’ for somebody?” A smooth and honeyed voice said behind him. He closed his locker door to see a young woman leaning against the wall, her arms folded as she looked him over. She was dressed all in black, so she clearly worked in the front. Her slightly rounded face was fixed with an amused smile watching Stephen fumble with his lock. “You must be Stephen.” 

“Uh, yes,” he said finally, managing to secure his belongings. He shook her outstretched hand. 

“I’m Nat. It’s nice to meet you, Christine told me a lot about you,” She was still smiling at him and Stephen was slightly unnerved. She had a mischievous glint in her eye and he felt like she just might want to eat him for dinner. 

“Nothing bad, I hope.” 

“All good things,” she continued. “I like your hair.” 

Stephen stifled a laugh. His hair was nothing to like - he kept it short to avoid having to deal with a head of unruly curls. “I like yours. The red looks particularly nice.” 

“Will you two stop flirting? We have twenty-five minutes now,” Steve Rogers poked his head into the kitchen. 

“I’m just saying  _ hello _ , Cap,” Nat rolled her eyes. 

“You can say ‘hello’ later. Right now we have work to do,” he said sternly, then left the room. 

“It was nice to meet you, Stephen,” Nat winked, taking a moment to gently squeeze Stephen’s bicep. “Looking forward to working with you.” 

He watched her leave. He swallowed, not noticing his mouth had suddenly gone dry. What was  _ with _ this place? Was it a hiring requirement to be extremely attractive and dripping with sex appeal? He didn’t think that highly of himself, figuring he had only gotten in on Christine’s coattail. He didn’t even  _ like  _ girls but Nat had quite the presence. Dominating. 

He shook it off. Maybe he was going insane. He hadn’t gotten laid in months and he could feel his desperateness oozing out of his pores. He had to be rational.  _ Not everyone wants to sleep with you, Stephen _ . His ego in check, he followed her back into the dining room. 

  
  


Rhodey and Clint set up the staff meal on the bar and stood back to let the servers fill up their own plates. Stephen was starving, he woke up late and didn’t think to eat lunch before he came. He quietly said ‘hi’ to Rhodey and Clint and got in line behind Rogers. 

“Be sure to take notes when the chefs talk about the menu, they’ll only say it once before they tell you to fuck off,” he was saying. “I’ll help you if you forget anything of course, but I’m not always here, so you are better off being prepared.” 

Rogers was like a typical boy scout. Completely over prepared for any situation and he took his duties beyond seriously. Stephen could only nod in agreement, taking a seat next to the captain at one of the tables. 

Stephen looked around the dining room as he ate his food. Nat was sitting at a table across the aisle with two other servers, Wanda and Scott. Wanda had a head of brilliant red hair and a cute little button nose. She was the youngest out of all of them, having just turned eighteen over the summer. She had been a host for years, and this was her first time serving. Stephen knew she attended the local community college as an undeclared major. 

Scott Lang, on the other hand, was pretty cute. Typical adorableness with brown hair and blue eyes, he had a perfectly proportional figure and a playful attitude about him. He pulled off a five o’clock shadow quite nicely, and Stephen didn’t know if that was because he found it attractive or because he was jealous Scott could grow facial hair at all. 

The kitchen crew sat around the bar waiting for the meeting to start. Clint noticed Stephen watching them and immediately started making rude gestures - pretending to jerk off a phantom cock and making kissy-faces in Stephen’s direction. Rhodey noticed and joined in. Sam laughed out loud, but Tony didn’t even notice - absorbed in his phone while his plate of food got cold. 

“Rhodey, if you could stop whatever it is that you’re doing and start us off…” Pepper marched onto the floor and Stephen was thankful that they stopped before Rogers noticed. “Tony, I need to see you in my office.” 

Rhodey sighed loudly and shuffled over to the center of the bar. Tony cleared his throat and followed Pepper to her office, the door closing behind them with a  _ click _ . 

Stephen partially listened to Rhodey’s explanation. He could see Pepper’s office from where he sat, it was just on the other side of the bar before the server’s hallway to the kitchen. They were fighting, maybe. He could hear the low tones of Tony’s voice, indiscernible, and the sharper pitches of Pepper’s voice. As Rhodey droned on, the voices got more heated and then Stephen heard it. 

_ Thump _ . 

He couldn’t be imagining it. Was that… a stifled moan? 

_ Thump. Thump. Thump. _

Stephen looked around. Everyone had their attention fixed on Rhodey, and soon, Bruce stood to take over to explain the cocktails and wine selections. Absolutely no one was paying attention to whatever was going down in Pepper’s office. 

“...and tonight we have a traditional sazerac on the menu, definitely not for the faint of heart,” Bruce was saying and Stephen’s ears were on fire. The thumping noise was getting persistent and he couldn’t believe he was the only one hearing it, or reacting to it. He tried to focus on what Bruce was describing but his imagination ran away with him, imagining exactly what Tony and Pepper were doing in her office. 

“Stephen, you didn’t write anything down,” Rogers said accusingly, and Stephen snapped out of his daydream to realize he had completely missed the read out. Steve sighed and handed him his notebook. “Copy this down. I know it’s overwhelming, but you better pay attention tomorrow or you’ll be shit out of luck.” 

Stephen nodded and hastily copied everything down. He didn’t look up when he heard Pepper’s office door click open, Tony immediately disappearing into the kitchen. Pepper flattened the front of her blouse and cleared her throat. 

“We ready to do this? Let’s open!” 

  
  


Stephen had been back and forth through the kitchen at least four times. Tony barely looked at him, didn’t respond when Stephen said hello. It was eating him up inside - he had to say something. He had to talk about it, he didn’t want to just be another notch on Tony’s bed post. He finished dropping off food at his tables and circled back to the kitchen, bursting through the swinging doors with intent. 

“About what you said last night -” Stephen started, placing himself directly in Tony’s eyeline.

“Excuse me?” Tony looked up from his cutting board and suddenly Clint and Rhodey became very still, attentive. 

“I just wanted to clear things up before anything happened, I wasn’t sure exactly what you meant when you said -” Stephen stuttered, not sure if he should be looking at Tony or at the shiniest spot on his brand new shoes.

“Can you just spit it out, please? We’re kind of busy in here,” Tony waved his knife in the air, encouraging Stephen to hurry up. 

“Of course. Well what I meant to say is that I’m flattered, but you’re just not my type,” Stephen cringed as the words left his mouth. This isn’t what he had planned! Oh god, why didn’t he stick to the script? Something about the way Tony was looking at him, like he was discerning Stephen’s  _ soul _ threw him completely off. He didn’t get to flounder long.

“I’m not… I’m not your  _ type _ ?” Tony’s face screwed up in confusion. Rhodey snorted. 

“That’s what he said, Tone. You’re not his type.” 

“Do I look like Stephen’s type, Hawkeye?” 

“No sir,” Clint shook his head, careful not to make eye contact with Stephen. “You don’t look like Stephen’s type at all.” 

“Fascinating,” Tony narrowed his eyes and flattened his knuckles on the cutting board. “So tell me Stephen. What exactly  _ is _ your type?” 

Stephen physically recoiled. Tony and Rhodey were looking at him intently, Clint dropped something in the fryer and then turned to look at him, too. He was deeply uncomfortable.

“I don’t think we need to discuss that, it’s really not important -”

“Oh but it  _ is _ important,” Tony said confidently, wiping his knife on a sanitizer towel. “Because you came in here accusing me of saying - wait, what did I say?”

“Sorry?” Stephen nearly choked.

“What did I say to you? I just don’t remember,” Tony’s lips had become a thin line and he tilted his head while he waited for Stephen’s response. This was going way worse than Stephen had anticipated. 

“You… you said we were going to fuck,” Stephen said quietly, hoping only Tony could make out what he said. 

“I can’t hear you.”

“ _ You said we were going to fuck _ ,” Stephen said only slightly louder, and he could feel his cheeks get redder and redder. Rhodey’s eyes got wide and Clint hid his face while his shoulders shuddered with laughter. Tony didn’t react for a moment, and then he shrugged.

“That doesn’t sound like something I’d say at all,” He said calmly, turning his attention back to the vegetables on his cutting board. “You should get back out front, Cap’s probably wondering where his lackey is.”

The rest of the shift went by without a hitch. Stephen didn’t step on anyone’s toes, didn’t fuck up anyone’s order, and didn’t have anymore hiccups with the kitchen. They poked fun at him, sure, but he was “fresh meat”, as they called him, and he knew their teasing would lessen in time. He clocked out and walked home, naively optimistic for the next day - his first shift solo. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I haven't touched on exactly what Stephen did to make the kitchen pissed at him, but we'll get there. Next chapter: An Honest Mistake. 
> 
> Leave a comment, let me know what you think!


	3. Honest Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen and Tony make peace and war all in the same day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Sometimes  
>  I forget I'm still awake  
> I fuck up and say these things out loud  
> Don't look at me that way  
> It was an honest mistake  
> _  
> \- The Bravery

Humiliated. Mortified. Embarrassed as all fuck. There were a lot of words to describe how Stephen felt when he left the kitchen the day before but he was determined to finish his shift with whatever dignity he had intact. He smiled at the kitchen crew, pleasantly ignoring any comments they threw his way, and did his best to keep up the facade that he had his shit together, mostly to impress Rogers. 

The next day, Christine was buried somewhere in the university library so he had to walk to work. He could take the bus but the way the schedules lined up, it would take just as much time. Christine had told him that this town was “hilly” but after his first walk to work, he realized it was no fucking joke. The layout of the city was perfectly Dickensian: the ivy league university took up the north east quadrant, the smaller state college sat on the south hill, and the downtown - full of locals who were either hippies or over-educated professionals - sat in the valley between the two. He and Christine were fortunate enough to find an apartment four blocks away from the downtown area. It was cheaper than being uptown near the university, and much closer to a local co-op grocery store. It was perfect, but _Bella_ ’s was a mile away, entirely uphill. 

As he walked it felt like he was walking directly at a forty-five degree angle. His calf muscles burned and he was out of breath within minutes, even though he considered himself to be relatively in shape. He was struggling to breathe like a normal human being. He was sure he looked like a sorry sight - hiking up the hill, dressed head to toe in black, completely out of breath like he’d smoked a pack of cigarettes a day since he’d been born. He sincerely hoped he wouldn’t run into anyone he knew but as fate would have it, of course he would. 

He could see a car pull up in his peripheral and the tooting of the horn caught his attention. He pulled an earbud out as the owner of the vehicle rolled down their window. 

“Hey Strange. Want a ride?” 

Tony drove a bright orange Land Rover. A white stripe painted the side, the model written on it clearly - “Discovery”. Stephen wouldn’t be surprised if the car was older than Tony, for fuck’s sake. His heart dropped to his stomach and he could think of a million things he’d rather do than climb into Tony’s car. The kid had some _audacity_.

“No,” Stephen said quickly, and seeing the slightly offended look on Tony’s face, he added, “Thank you.” 

Stephen shoved his earbuds back in and kept walking, but Tony didn’t leave. He kept his foot on the pedal, driving slowly beside Stephen.

“I owe you an apology!” Tony hollered out his window. Stephen stopped. 

“Tony…” 

“Quit bitching and get in my car,” Tony thumped the side of his door and pulled over. Stephen sighed and took out his earbuds once more. If Tony was as stubborn as Stephen was, they’d spend the next forty minutes crawling up the hill at five miles an hour. Admitting defeat, Stephen looked both ways and crossed the street to Tony’s car. Tony leaned over and opened the passenger door for him, his face expectant as Stephen hopped in. “Buckle up.” 

Stephen acquiesced and looked around while Tony pulled back into traffic. The inside of the car was immaculate, only marred by the presence of an ashtray in the center console. 

“Nice ride,” Stephen noted.

“Thanks, fixed her up myself,” Tony said casually. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his lap, flipped open the top, and offered one to Stephen. “Smoke?” 

“No thank you, I like my lungs,” Stephen said and he felt stupid as soon as he did. Like Tony didn’t know smoking was bad already. Christ.

“Suit yourself,” Tony lit up, inhaling deeply. He blew the smoke out his open window and finally started talking, his eyes glued to the road. “I wanted to say sorry if I made you uncomfortable with the whole ‘fucking’ thing.” 

Stephen felt his cheeks burning already. Is this what emotional whiplash felt like? He was already terrified from meeting new people, having to acclimate to a new workspace, and then he met Tony and he was anywhere between turned on and mortified and ashamed at any given moment. 

“It’s just the culture, ya know?” Tony continued. “We’re used to fucking with people really hard. People usually quit but you’re showing up for your third day so you must be some sort of masochist, huh?” 

Stephen tried to laugh but a strangled noise came out and he pretended to cough instead. To say he was a masochist was a massive understatement. He always took on too much work, always demanded too much of himself and of others. His drive to achieve perfection fueled his narcissistic tendencies and Christine would laugh in his face if he told her he didn’t love the struggle. 

It didn’t help that he constantly fell in love with the wrong people. He’d had a series of boyfriends over the years, none of them lasting longer than three months, and Stephen made the mistake more than once of thinking he’d fallen in love. He pursued that high until reality would inevitably come crashing down. If he wasn’t in a relationship he was sleeping with _someone_. There was always someone. He couldn’t think of a fate more unbearable than being alone with the one person he hated most - himself. 

“You still with me?” Tony asked, ripping Stephen from his self-deprecating thoughts. “I just wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings, alright?” 

“Sure,” Stephen nodded, looking out his window. They were getting close to the restaurant. “No hard feelings.” 

“So we’re good?” Tony confirmed.

“Yeah, we’re good.” 

Tony parked on a side street a couple of blocks away. Stephen was extremely grateful to get out of the car and breathe in the fresh September air. Part of him wanted to sprint to the restaurant, but the other part of him wanted to extend the walk with Tony. His curiosity was getting the best of him. Maybe he didn’t want to believe that Tony was just joking. The first thing Stephen learned was that Tony was a fucking chatterbox. 

He asked Stephen where he was from, where he completed his degree. Stephen found out Tony was born and raised in New York city, and that he completed his degree but was waiting for Rhodey to graduate. 

“We’re in a band,” Tony said, flicking his cigarette butt to the ground. 

“Who?”

“Me, Rhodey, Clint, and Bucky,” Tony stopped to light another. Stephen’s eyes watered as the puff of smoke blew past his face. “Sorry. As soon as Rhodey graduates we’re out of here.” 

“When is that supposed to be?”

“If he’s not a fucking idiot he’ll graduate next semester,” Tony sighed. “Looks like neither of us will be here next fall, huh?” 

“Hope not,” Stephen smiled but he was filled with dread. Just talking about his medical school applications gave him anxiety. His parents were already on his case about it, he didn’t need any external reminders about how much work he had to do. It helped that Christine was working on her applications too, but Stephen was dragging his heels. He just wanted a fucking break. 

“Good luck tonight,” Tony said as they rounded the corner. Walking up to the entrance, he opened the door for Stephen and waved him through. 

“Thanks,” Stephen stepped inside and was thankful he had cleared the air (figuratively) with Tony. He didn’t know it yet, but luck was something he would desperately need. 

  
  


Fridays were exciting. Pepper had declared there were _at least_ thirty reservations on the books, promising that each and every section of the restaurant would be quite busy. Stephen walked in to see that the same staff was working with the new addition of Carol. 

Stephen introduced himself and was pleased to discover that she didn’t like to talk, either. Carol was all business. He could see that she worked well with Bruce who loved to stop what he was doing to chat. Carol kept the momentum going, diligently keeping her head down and finishing all of the opening duties ten minutes before the staff meal. 

He was on the ball. He polished all of the silverware, set all of the tables in his section, and even helped Nat finish folding the linen. There was nothing that was going to stop him from having a successful first night. He sat up straight when Tony got up to go over the menu. 

“Uh… vegetable options are roasted eggplant and grilled broccolini, both are dressed in the garlic butter, absolutely _no substitutions_ on that please -” Tony flipped through his notebook and read off the rest. Most of it was the same from earlier in the week, the only changes being made were just cuts of meat or the exact type of fish they offered. They made their own pasta and occasionally they would switch up how they cut it, but they almost always had bolognese sauce. “... and the pasta is tagliatelle, not pappardelle, don’t fuck that up. Lastly, our meat special is a t-bone steak-”

“Does that mean the bone is in it?” Scott raised his hand and Tony rolled his eyes so hard Stephen thought they were going to fall out of his head. 

“No, we call it a T-bone steak and then take the bone out,” Tony said sarcastically. Scott went to write it down and Tony marched over and hit him over the head with his notebook. “ _Yes_ , the bone’s in it, you fucking ignoramus.” 

“Tony,” Pepper said in a warning tone. “Don’t hit Scott. He just asked you a question.” 

“He asked a stupid fucking question.” 

“Don’t. Hit. Scott,” Pepper gritted out. 

“Fine,” Tony held up his hands in defeat. Glancing at his notebook, he added, “And it’s served with chimichurri sauce and our house cut fries. Stark out.” 

Tossing his notebook over his shoulder (and thus onto the floor), he walked towards the kitchen before Pepper could protest. 

Things were going great until Stephen went to get butter. His tables were happy, his food was coming out on time, his drinks were made perfectly. Everything was going really smoothly. He never thought those tiny foil wrapped packages would ever cause him so much grief. 

The walk-in door was slightly ajar when he approached it. Steve had driven it into his head several times to always make sure the door was shut - if it was left open, hundreds of dollars worth of inventory would go bad. Stephen opened the door fully to see that Tony was in there, his back to the door. 

“Drinking on the job?” Stephen said in a light-hearted tone, and Tony turned around quickly.

“What?” Tony’s face was serious. 

“Uh… I was joking,” Stephen pointed towards the open beer can on the shelf. “It’s just funny it wouldn’t be moved to another container.” 

“Oh… yeah. I was cooking with it, I just forgot,” Tony shrugged. “Do you need help finding something, Strange?” 

“No, I got it,” Stephen said politely, grabbing the box of butter packets. “Thanks.” 

  
  


An hour later, Stephen was grabbing a tray of clean glasses to bring to the front when Pepper stalked from the walk-in, almost taking Stephen out near the dish pit. 

“ _Why are there empty beer cans in the walk in_?” She glared at the kitchen staff. Rhodey and Clint shook their heads, frowning, not answering. Stephen was in such a good mood he didn’t stop to think about why they were being silent. 

“Tony said he was cooking with it,” he offered, a smile on his face. Pepper turned slowly, her breath coming out in carefully metered intervals. Stephen was suddenly aware he might have been better off not saying anything at all. 

“Really?” She said, her voice artificially sweet. “What did he say he was cooking with it?”

“Um… I don’t know, it’s just what he said when I asked,” Stephen stuttered out. 

“Right, sorry Stephen,” Pepper let out a breath and smiled briefly, before she turned back to Rhodey. “Where is he?” 

“In his office,” Rhodey clacked his tongs in the direction of the alleyway, and Pepper took off in hot pursuit. Ignoring the possible ramifications of his words, Stephen slipped back into the dining room with the clean glasses. 

  
  


* * *

“I can’t serve this,” Stephen was in over his head. He was already behind and he felt like the kitchen was pushing his tickets to the back of the line. The last thing he needed was someone calling over Pepper to complain. He had dishes that needed to be remade, dishes the kitchen claimed he ordered incorrectly. He was waiting on a two-top and the vegetable lasagna was perfect, but the meat special was… explicit. 

“What’s the matter, Strange? Panties in a bunch?” Clint sneered as he put another ticket up and called it out to Tony and Rhodey. 

“I _can’t_ serve this!” Stephen repeated, feeling tears in his eyes. He looked down at the t-bone Tony had plated for him and he felt like crying. The steak was placed atop a bed of hand cut fries like it was supposed to, but the chimichurri sauce - instead of being placed nicely in a teardrop line on the side - was drawn in the shape of an erect penis on the bone. A white sauce was splattered all over the “tip” and it was no mystery what he was looking at. 

“Your patrons are waiting, Stephen. Wouldn’t want Pepper to come _yell at you_ ,” Tony said without looking up. He wiped the edge of the plate he was working on and tapped the bell. “Order up, Natasha!” 

Stephen was paralyzed. He couldn’t move. 

“Take the damn plate or I’m pushing it onto the ground!” Tony growled. Stephen met his eyes and he felt pure hatred. “Move it, Strange!” 

Swallowing his pride, Stephen grabbed the plates and quickly exited the kitchen. He nearly ran into Rogers at the swinging doors. 

“Whoa! What’s up, buddy? You look like you’re going to cry,” Rogers said playfully, but when Stephen’s bottom lip began to tremble, he realized his observation was correct. 

“Take these to table five for me, please,” Stephen pleaded, his hands shaking. Rogers took one look at the plates and sighed. 

“Absolutely not,” He said with such finality that a tear actually escaped down Stephen’s cheek. He took the plates out of Stephen’s hands. “Look, I’ll handle this. Tell the bar you need drinks on the house and get that to your table. Understood?” 

As Stephen walked towards the bar he heard the unmistakable sound of a plate crashing to the ground and Rogers yelling, “ _ENOUGH!_ ” 

When the rush had settled down, Rogers pulled Stephen aside. Whatever he said to the kitchen had worked, and Stephen managed to get through the rest of the rush only comping a couple of tables. Pepper was too busy to be pissed and Steve helped him when he could. 

“What happened?” He asked seriously, handing Stephen a pile of menus to sort. 

Stephen told him about when he went to get the butter and when Pepper burst into the kitchen. He didn’t think about it at the time, he was too busy making sure he was ready for the evening. It wasn’t until he noticed the kitchen was holding a particular gripe that he realized the events were even connected. Steve listened and took a moment before he spoke. 

“Tony wasn’t cooking with the beer, Stephen. He was drinking it,” Steve patted him on the back consolingly. “He was expecting you to not rat him out.”

Stephen cursed. This was the last thing he needed, the entire kitchen mad at him for something he did on his third goddamn day. 

He’d made a mistake.

An honest mistake. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How will Stephen fix it? Or does he? Leave a comment :)


	4. Time to Pretend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chance encounter at a bar downtown gives Stephen an opportunity to set the record straight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _I'm feeling rough, I'm feeling raw, I'm in the prime of my life  
>  But there is really nothing, nothing we can do  
> Love must be forgotten. Life can always start up anew  
> We'll choke on our vomit and that will be the end  
> We were fated to pretend, to pretend  
> _  
> -MGMT

“Can we talk?” Stephen had his bag slung over his shoulder. He was ready to leave for the night and just wanted a chance to redeem himself. Tony was writing down his pars for the next day, hiding behind the line. 

“Anything you could possibly say to me you could say in front of the boys,” Tony said, his voice completely monotone. Rhodey and Clint began to close up their stations - Rhodey was scrubbing the grill behind Tony, and Clint was cleaning the wall behind the fryer. Stephen knew they were listening. He took in a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.” 

Tony kept writing and if Stephen wasn’t three feet from him, separated by the lowboy refrigerator, he would have thought Tony didn’t hear him. 

“I’m not trying to make your life harder,” Stephen added, thinking maybe he needed to clarify. “I just… I just really need this job, and I want to make this work.” 

Tony clicked his pen closed and headed towards the walk in. There was no way Stephen was ever going to follow Tony into the walk in ever again. 

“Hey Strange,” Rhodey called out as Stephen turned to leave the kitchen. “If you really want to make this work, do yourself a favor.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Mind your own fucking business.” 

  
  


He needed a drink. A stiff drink. Christine offered to pick him up after his shift but he declined - he needed to think. The night had been a complete shitshow and he didn’t know how he would recover. He was glad that Christine would work with him during his next shift, maybe she would be able to help smooth things over. Rogers was a fucking saint but Stephen knew he and Tony had some beef. 

The walk down the hill seemed to take less time and he spaced out listening to his music. Stephen loved music. He loved pop, he loved alternative rock, he loved power ballads from the eighties - he loved every single type of music, except for country. He played violin until his sophomore year in college when he couldn’t balance the workload anymore. He still dreamt about playing, even though his violin was stashed in his closet at his childhood home. 

One good thing about this town was that it was nearly impossible to not get involved in the local music scene. The college on the south hill had an incredible music school and was known for churning out excellent musicians. There were multiple live shows every night and Christine had even befriended some musicians, an unintentional side effect of her being a bar rat during the summer. 

Tonight, however - Stephen wanted to be alone and with people at the same time. He didn’t want to go home to Christine, didn’t want her pity as he explained his night. He left her texts unread. His feet brought him to the main street downtown. Where the major routes met, (from the south and the northeast), two blocks maintained their cobblestone streets and barred vehicular traffic. It was known as _The Commons_ and Stephen quite liked walking through there. 

The streets were lined with bars, restaurants, and kitschy retail shops. There was a stage that often attracted homeless people when it wasn’t being used, its stone arches good cover from the elements. A garden was located in the middle, and its high-reaching trees acted as an aviary for a plethora of birds. Local artists always had sculptures on display, and if there was a festival celebration going on, it was always located in the Commons. The town simply loved to celebrate. 

He walked past the go-to dance club for college-aged kids, _The_ _Starlight_. The music was pouring out of the club, and a line of eager drinkers had formed at the doorway. It looked completely hellish. He walked by another bar that catered more to the intellectual crowd, _The Silky Cat_ , but they were completely at capacity too. He supposed it was too much to ask for an empty bar on a Friday night, but then he remembered. 

Just outside of the Commons, a block away from the police station, there were three or four bars. One was a wildly popular brewpub, one was a former stripclub turned local dive bar (famous for its jagerbomb specials), and the other was exactly what Stephen was looking for - an Irish pub by the name of _O’Flanagans_. 

O’Flanagans was never busy after eleven. It attracted mostly the happy hour crowd, public workers who got off at five and drank until they got kicked out. Christine liked to go there when she had work to do late at night. 

He walked up to the red-paneled building, the bar’s name overhead, emblazoned in gold. He opened the heavy oak door, his feet sticking to the floor as he walked through the entryway. The beautifully polished mahogany bar was practically empty and he smiled. It was perfect. 

A brunette bartender with a pointed nose tossed down a coaster as Stephen approached the bar. He hung his bag over the barstool and took a seat. 

“You look like you need a drink,” She said astutely. Stephen was confident he looked like shit. “What’ll it be?” 

He ordered whatever IPA they had on tap and took out his phone. It was probably time to respond to Christine or she would think he’d been jumped on his way home. He gave her nonspecific answers, saying he was glad it was over and he’d be home after he’d had a few drinks. He needed to decompress. 

There were a handful of patrons in the bar. A couple of the booths were occupied, and there were three people at the other end of the bar. The comforting tunes of Johnny Cash were playing and he scrolled through his phone while he sipped his beer. Unsatisfied, he took a notebook out of his backpack and began to write down his to-do list. If he couldn’t fix things with Tony, he could at least focus on the things he _did_ have control over.

He was halfway through his second beer when someone sat two seats away from him. He wouldn’t have paid attention until he heard the bartender greet them. 

“Hiya, Tony. The usual?” She asked, already grabbing a glass and pouring two ounces of whiskey.

“Thanks, Maria,” Stephen looked over to see Tony toss his credit card on the counter. “Keep it open.” 

  
  


Stephen didn’t want to finish his beer. He didn’t want the bartender to ask him if he wanted another one, he didn’t want Tony to look over and see he was sitting here. He tried to hide himself behind his propped up arm. 

“You’re fucking terrible at being covert,” Tony said dryly. He lifted his drink to his lips as Stephen slowly turned in his chair. 

“I didn’t think you would want to see me. I’ll leave,” Stephen said hastily, shoving his notebook in his bag. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Tony smirked. He tapped the bar and hooked his thumb in Stephen’s direction and before Stephen knew it, a brand new beer was poured and placed in front of him. Maria took the tepid beer away, a knowing smile on her face. 

“Thank you,” Stephen said quietly. He didn’t know how he was supposed to react, or what Tony wanted. This was a golden opportunity to fix things and all Stephen had to do was not fuck things up again. “So about earlier -”

“It’s not your fault,” Tony shook his head. “I shouldn’t have fucked with you, I know, I’m sorry. It’s a character flaw of mine to lash out and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” 

Stephen didn’t know how to respond. He was trying to apologize to Tony, not the other way around. 

“It’s between me and Pepper, not you and me,” Tony continued. 

“Oh. Are you and Pepper -” Stephen started, but he was cut off.

“Ha! No,” Tony drained his glass and Maria immediately came over to pour another round. “We aren’t a _thing_ , Pepper would never let us be a _thing_.” 

Stephen frowned. “Do you want to be a thing?” 

“What are you, a fucking psychologist? And no. I respect her too much to put her through that.” 

“So the other day when you went to her office…”

“Stephen, I’m going to level with you,” Tony put his glass down on the counter and turned his body to face Stephen. “I’m fucking garbage when it comes to relationships. I don’t even know how to keep friends, they just kind of flock to me. But with Pepper, she’s annoying, yeah, but sometimes you just gotta fuck. Y’know? Why do people make things so complicated? Sometimes you just need to get fucked.” 

Stephen gulped. He was thankful for the dim lighting in the bar, because Tony wouldn’t be able to see how red his face had gotten. 

“I totally agree,” he found himself saying. He drank his beer to keep himself from saying anything else that was coming to mind. 

“And she’s fucking terrifying when she’s angry, but she’ll cool off in a couple of days,” Tony checked his phone briefly. “So anyway… I’ll call off the hounds.”

Was he referring to Clint and Rhodey? It would be amazing if Stephen could show up to work tomorrow and not have to worry about serving penis-garnished steaks. 

“Thank you,” Stephen said again, and they sat and finished their drinks in silence. 

* * *

“Rough night, Strange?” Clint smiled. Stephen was leaning on the expediting station, half hoping the heat lamp would set his hair on fire so he could go home. It had been a couple of weeks since his encounter with Tony at the bar, and he was finally starting to feel like he fit in. He’d learned how to handle the kitchen. He knew they got extra sassy in the middle of rushes and to always say ‘please’. For some reason, Rhodey was a particular stickler about that. 

“You look like you got hit by a truck,” Rhodey observed. Christine flew into the kitchen at that exact moment.

“It was more like a sedan, but he did - he got hit a few times last night, I thought?” She grinned widely and spanked him with her notepad. She was referring to the plain-faced chubby boy he had dragged home from _The Starlight_ last night. The sex was far from satisfactory. “Is this table nine?” 

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Tony said smoothly. Christine took her plates and left the kitchen. Tony’s eyes shifted to Stephen. “A _sedan_ , huh Strange? Four-door, mid-sized, plenty of room in the trunk?” 

“I don’t think this metaphor is working,” Stephen said miserably. “He was a two-pump chump, that’s all I’ll say.”

“Poor baby,” Clint frowned. 

“I didn’t know you were gay,” Wanda’s small voice piped up. She ditched her dishes at the sink and let her hand rest on Stephen’s waist. “I never would have pegged you as the type.” 

“Interesting choice of words, Wan,” Tony grinned. 

“And what do you mean, ‘type’?” Rhodey pointed his tongs accusingly at her. “Sexual orientation has no bounds, young lady. Look at Tony, for example. He’s knee deep in pussy but he’s actually a flaming homosexual.” 

Wanda laughed and grabbed a bus tub to take back out into the dining room. Even through his hungover haze, Stephen noticed Tony didn’t respond directly. 

It was so quick Stephen almost missed it. Tony was putting a ticket up on the line when his eyes briefly met Stephen’s, and he _winked_. 

“You got that rib-eye, Rhodes? Let’s finish Stephen’s ticket before he collapses.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp I really meant to take more time between posts but it can't be helped. May be sporadic in the upcoming week. 
> 
> Next chapter: Stephen and Christine crash some hippie's party in the woods. Hint: his husky dogs are named Lightning and Thunder.
> 
> Leave a comment, let me know what you think :)


	5. Mariposa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christine drags Stephen to a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _I can't wait for you  
>  To come my way  
> I've been far away  
> But I'll keep runnin'  
> Just to find a way to you til' then  
> _  
> \- Peach Tree Rascals

“Come to the party, Buck,” Christine begged. Her auburn curls bounced as she stood on her tippy toes to see the line cook through the expediting station. “It’ll be so fun! There’ll be live music, lots of free alcohol, probably drugs -”

He gave her a look. “You just described my typical weekend.” 

“Ok, selling point - it’s at a gutted log cabin near a waterfall!” She grinned widely, hoping to persuade him. “The last people I know who went to one of his parties walked away with a bunch of really good acid.” 

Bucky perked up at that, but his happiness was fleeting as Tony walked down the line and slapped a brisket on the cutting board, upsetting the cilantro Bucky had just chopped.

“The fuck, man…” 

“Bucky can’t go to your little party, Christine,” Tony said, a condescending tone in his voice. “We have a gig tonight.” 

“So? Come after. It’s definitely going to go all night.”

“No can do,  _ mamasita _ ,” Tony stole Bucky’s knife when he turned to check something on the range. “Have fun though. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

Tony winked at her and Stephen felt a little bit silly. He had spent the past couple of days simply  _ obsessing _ over that wink and after watching Tony for a bit, he realized he wasn’t all that special. Tony winked at everybody. 

He didn’t know why everything Tony did affected him so much. They’d spent the first week wanting to kill each other (ok, Stephen felt like Tony wanted to kill  _ him _ ) but now… now it was something else. A semblance of a friendship was forming but Stephen couldn’t help but over analyze every single aspect. 

“You gonna stand there like a statue, Strange, or are you gonna help your friend?” Tony made a clicking noise with his mouth. Startled, Stephen stopped leaning on a shelf and went to help Christine bring dishes to the dining room. They were setting up for the daily staff meal and he spaced out listening to Christine and Bucky talk. “Good boy.”

Bucky was interesting. He didn’t talk to Stephen at all the first two weeks he was here, but now he could get a reasonable grunt if he was polite enough. Somehow, he was best childhood friends with Rogers but lived with Sam, Clint and Rhodey in a house with Tony. Stephen watched Rogers and Bucky interact - Bucky held the Captain in high regard and very rarely sassed back. Any other server was fair game but no one would fuck with Rogers when Bucky was around. 

Christine was desperately trying to fast-track Stephen’s socialization with their coworkers. She knew he had issues making friends, largely because he was socially awkward and half as personable as she was. He assured her he would get there in time - he spent twice as much time at work as she did, anyway. Christine wasn’t having any of it. 

First, she invited Stephen to their weekly trivia game. Stephen declined. Once people found out about his eidetic memory he usually got banned. He used to frequent trivia nights when he was in college and thought he had made quite a few friends but once he got banned, they didn’t want to hang out with him anymore. It was a blow to his self esteem and he tried to re-insert himself in another friend group, but it was too late. 

He supposed it was also Christine’s way of distracting Stephen from the one year anniversary of the worst time he’d had in his life. His senior year had started out on a positive note - he was dating a guy he had been crushing on for some time. They tiptoed around each other’s feelings over the summer and then it finally happened. They kissed at a fourth of July party and that was it. Stephen was done. He was head over heels with a long haired lanky redhead. 

Stephen went home in early October to surprise his sister Donna at her dance recital. She was ecstatic - she had finally made the competitive dance team at her high school and Stephen was thrilled he could be there for her. He was in a good mood; he was acing his classes, spending time with his new love, and everything seemed serendipitous. He even entertained bringing his boyfriend home to meet the parents, maybe this was the one he would come out for. Maybe this would be the one he would risk losing his parents’ love for. It was a gamble, but at that point, Stephen thought it would be one he was willing to take. 

A simple text tore everything apart. 

_ I fucked someone else. Moving out. _

Donna was there to watch him crumble. She held him as he cried and he told her everything. He always adored his little sister but she had never seen him be so vulnerable, so open. Swearing she would never share Stephen’s secret, she accepted his situation with such grace and he never thought higher of her than he did when he was falling apart. 

He called Christine and she spent hours talking him through it. She listened patiently, sometimes falling asleep while Stephen rattled off every conspiracy theory in his brain. When he went back to his empty apartment, he filled the hole in his heart with alcohol. 

The next few months were difficult and of course, he recovered his GPA and graduated. But even a year later the wounds seemed to reopen, raw and bloody, and his insecurities would wash over him in waves. It would assault his brain at night, keeping him awake til the early hours. Where did he go wrong? What did he do to deserve such betrayal? Why wasn’t he  _ enough _ ? 

His solution to healing was to withdraw. To hold himself close and not let anyone in. Christine’s solution was the complete and polar opposite. She suggested Stephen just fuck anyone and everyone, to get rid of the emotional attachment he had to  _ just sex _ and to take care of his primal needs as a human being. It’s what she’d done for years. Christine was a machine - she never had a boyfriend because she didn’t want one. Well, she dated one guy in high school and everyone thought they were going to get married, but as soon as Christine went off to college, she realized how bad of an idea that was. 

Stephen tried. The first time he woke up next to a stranger, he was riddled with self-doubt and frankly, he felt disgusting. He felt used. The sex wasn’t even good, was it even worth it to spend a night shoving his tongue down a random dude’s throat? Ashamed, he collected his clothes and high-tailed it out of there shortly after dawn. 

It took a few months for the transformation to take place. Christine cheered him on from states away, happy to talk about hookups they had or whatever drunken shenanigans they had gotten into. Frankly, Stephen was amazed she could party as much as she did and keep her grades up, but she did. Eventually Stephen had a few good experiences. Hot nights with strangers, incredible fucks, and not so much as a peck on the cheek and then they were gone. Sometimes Stephen didn’t even learn their names and that was fine by him. He was finally empowered. 

But then he moved back home for the summer. To say the gay scene in Nebraska was pitiful was somewhat of an overstatement. Scrolling through the dating app on his phone, the choices were pretty much nonexistent. He resigned himself to focusing on making money that summer and then Christine called, and he dropped everything and ran away to move in with her. 

He was in flux. He knew he was on the verge of the next great thing and the delusional part in his brain said he felt like a phoenix. From the ashes he would be reborn. It felt cheesy to acknowledge but he had fallen so low, so close to failure in all aspects of his life that he just  _ needed _ to move forward. He needed to start over again. He needed to be new.

“I think we have… five people,” Christine counted out loud on her fingers. “Will we all fit in your car, Nat?” 

“Should be fine,” Nat smiled and put the folded napkins away. “Who’s going?” 

“Stephen, Scott and Wanda.”

“So… just us servers.” 

“Bruce is too old, Cap said he’d rather die,” Christine sighed and Stephen had to laugh at the thought of Rogers going to a party in the middle of the woods. He’d be so lost, just standing there trying to find a nice glass of chardonnay while people took jello shots and did keg stands. 

“How do you know this guy again?” Nat asked. 

“My friends are in a band and they know this guy who is totally legit. Like, he built this log cabin with his bare hands but he’s moving to the Netherlands or something and is throwing a party to get rid of all his drugs,” Christine twirled her hair in her hand while she sat on the barstool. “But they’ve partied with him before. Apparently he’s really good at kicking people who are assholes out of his parties.” 

“Good to know,” Nat nodded, an amused look on her face. 

“At any rate, half of the town will probably be there so you know what that means,” she said, a glint in her eye as she aimed a dimpled smile at Stephen. “Lots of dudes.”

“Christine -” he blushed, her intentions not escaping him.

“A lot of gay dudes,” she added.

“Yes, I get it,” Stephen rolled his eyes. She was trying so hard. “What will be, will be. I just want to have some fun.”

“Oh, you’ll have fun,” she said, and Stephen wondered how someone so sweet could sound so menacing. Waving her off, he turned his attention to Tony. The pre-shift meeting was about to start. 

  
  
  


“When’s Nat coming?” He asked Christine, shaking the towel through his hair. They’d raced home after work to shower. They were already missing the beginning of the party, it had started hours ago. 

“She’s on her way,” Christine said while she applied bright red lipstick. She looked cute - she wore short (short!) jean shorts and a colorful, flowy top she purchased downtown. Her Grecian sandals slapped the tile as she padded around their tiny bathroom. “We just need to pick up Wan.” 

“Aren’t you going to be cold?” He shivered just looking at her bare legs. He was planning on wearing jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and a taffeta bomber jacket that he loved. 

“Tonight’s a low of fifty I’ll be fine. And besides,” she smacked her lips together, looking at herself in the mirror. “We’ll be inside mostly. If anything, I’m going to be hot.” 

“Alright,” he said, the skepticism palpable in his voice. 

“I do have something else that will keep us warm, though,” she walked out of the bathroom while Stephen dried off his limbs. A minute later she came back, two shot glasses in her hands, full of clear liquid. “Enough of this and it won’t matter what we’re wearing.” 

Stephen tied his towel around his waist and took the glass. With a big grin on her face, Christine put the glass to her lips and tipped her head back. Stephen followed suit, his eyes watering as the alcohol burned his throat. Already he began to feel his body tingle with warmth. 

“I’m calling it now. Tonight will be a night to remember,” Christine took the empty shot glass out of his hand and skipped out of the bathroom. The liquor had already loosened the ball of anxiety he felt in the pit of his stomach. 

_ This was going to be fun _ , he told himself,  _ time to let loose and rock this town _ . The only people he would know were the people he worked with anyways, everyone else didn’t matter, because they were total fucking strangers. As long as he didn’t make a total fool of himself he could pretend to be anyone he wanted. He could be suave, he could be sophisticated. He could be anyone but Stephen Strange. 

  
  


“Is it beer before liquor or liquor before beer?” Scott asked from the backseat. He was sandwiched between Stephen and Wanda and was trying to plan out his alcohol imbibement plan for the evening. “Something about… being queer? What’s the rhyme?”

“ _ Beer before liquor, never been sicker _ ,” Nat recited from the driver seat. “You have to drink liquor before beer.”

“That’s a myth,” Christine shook her head. She was drinking from a gallon jug of water and dripped water down her front. “Fuck. Anyway, it’s been debunked over the years. The best way to avoid a hangover is just to drink less and hydrate.” 

The car was completely silent. Stephen was the first to let out a giggle and then suddenly everyone was laughing, Scott particularly loudly. 

“Yeah fuck that. We got some painkillers in this car?” Scott started sifting through the pockets behind Nat and Christine’s seats. “Tylenol? Cannabis?” 

“I got you covered, Scott. Don’t worry,” Nat winked into the rearview mirror. “But stop going through my shit or I’ll kill you.” 

They arrived at the correct address and the first thing they noticed was the extremely long line of cars. Parking at the end, they walked the winding dirt driveway. The log cabin was illuminated by several string lights and the music could be heard a quarter of a mile away. People were everywhere - milling in and out of the cabin and its wrap around porch.

Stephen followed Christine up the wooden steps. They put their beer and liquor down on any open space on the kitchen counter. She was right - Stephen was immediately overwhelmed by the massive amount of body heat and he removed his coat, tucking it on top of the refrigerator. 

The interior of the cabin was completely open, giant bay windows opening up to what would be a fantastic view of the river. The second floor was only a loft, a roughly carved spiral staircase leading up to it. Stephen could see legs dangling from it and it made him uncomfortable. 

A giant disco ball hung from the ceiling and it was reflecting various colored lights. The entire room was bathed in a red hue and Stephen thought it was the most beautiful lighting he had ever seen. He cracked open a beer and looked around. A platform stage was erected in front of a monumental fireplace and a DJ was spinning tracks. 

They drank, they danced. Stephen let the rhythm of the music vibrate through his body. He laughed watching Scott do keg stands with strangers but before he knew it, he was upside down, feet flailing in the air and Scott was laughing at  _ him _ . True to form, Christine found a pile of jello shots in the refrigerator and began handing them out with reckless abandon. Stephen was already drunk but he just wanted to have a taste of blue raspberry. 

After Christine’s friends played, a very tall man with a beer gut and an uncanny resemblance to the Big Lebowski took the stage. The audience chatter died down briefly as he began to speak.

“My name’s Thor, he/him, thank you for coming to my party!” he roared, and the audience cheered and clapped. His voice had a particular accent that Stephen couldn’t exactly figure out. He sounded Shakespearean. “I don’t know who the fuck half of you are but that’s no matter. Tonight, in my house, we are all friends.” 

The crowd cheered again and Stephen felt the camaraderie was so typical of this town. 

“I have a very special surprise for you tonight. I didn’t think they were coming but due to a last minute cancellation, I’d like to welcome our very own musical prodigies -  _ STARK NAKED _ !” 

Stephen couldn’t believe it. He’d rarely seen them out of their kitchen whites, and here they were. Clint, dressed head to toe in black, settled behind a drum set. Rhodey took the stage next, flaunting a blue and white electric bass guitar. Bucky came up next, electric guitar in hand. Stephen was extremely appreciative that his black hair was tied up in a man bun. He wore a t-shirt with cut off sleeves, showing off a muscular arm that was completely covered in tattoos. 

Lastly, Tony jogged onto the stage. He was wearing a white  _ The Who _ t-shirt and his signature cut-off black jeans. Stephen swallowed as his dark hair flopped in his eyes and he pushed it back slowly, his mouth getting closer and closer to the microphone. He looked like he was going to swallow it. 

“Evening everybody. I’m Tony Stark and if you don’t cum a little I’ll be personally offended,” He smirked and the crowd went wild. He swung his guitar in front of him, a nice piece embellished with hot-rod red and gold, and began to play. 

For the second time that night, Christine was completely right. 

This was absolutely going to be an evening to remember. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment :)


	6. What You Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen lets loose, maybe a little too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _In a few weeks I will get time  
>  To realize it's right before my eyes  
> And I can take it if it's what I want to do  
> I am leaving This is starting to feel like  
> It's right before my eyes  
> And I can taste it  
> It's my sweet beginning  
> _  
> \- Two Door Cinema Club
> 
> FIRST OFF: There's two songs mentioned that I would definitely recommend listening to and imagine a 20-something RDJ singing it.  
> "Choke" by I DON'T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME &  
> "Novocaine" by The Unlikely Candidates

The first note of the song came from Tony sliding his fingers up the guitar neck and holding the note. Clint joined in on the drums, Rhodey on the bass. Stephen was mesmerized watching them all move in sync, nodding their heads to the beat. He was completely unprepared for the voice he heard when Tony finally started singing. 

_Stop, drop_

_And drag me into place_

_And lock the fire escapes_

_I'll break your pretty face_

He’d heard Tony talk a lot, heard him yell a lot. He had _never_ heard Tony’s voice sound so… silky. He held every note so steadily and clearly, and ended the phrases with a gentle vibrato. It didn’t even sound like it should be coming out of his mouth. God, he sounded _good_.

_Oh, you clever little things_

_The sycophantic teens_

_What a precious basket case_

He held back a laugh, not that anyone could hear him - when he saw Rhodey, Bucky, and Clint all lean into their microphones to offer up support vocals. For some reason this whole ordeal was making him giddy. 

_Now shut your dirty mouth_

_If I could burn this town_

_I wouldn't hesitate_

_To smile while you suffocate and die_

They all looked so at ease up there in their own little worlds. Looking at them, one would never be able to guess how stressful their lives in the kitchen were. Even Bucky played with relaxed shoulders. When he and Tony had to play together, they looked at each other with such evenness and respect one would never guess they were at each other’s throats just hours before. Most impressively, Bucky’s voice reached higher notes than Tony. They leaned in together, singing and playing into Bucky’s microphone.

_And that would be just fine_

_And what a lovely time_

_That it would surely be_

_So bite your tongue_

_And choke yourself to sleep_

Some performers weren’t gifted with stage presence; Tony was not one of these people. Everything from his facial expressions to his body language just demanded attention. Every note he played, every note he sang were precisely on key. The way Tony’s eyes grazed the crowd made Stephen feel like he really did want to choke someone out, and maybe fuck them while he was doing it. It was a peculiar feeling but fuck, the music was getting chills out of the audience. 

“They’re really good, aren’t they?” Christine said into his ear. Her lips were blue from the jello shots but she seemed happy all the same. “They won _Battle of the Bands_ last year!” 

Stephen could certainly see why. This wasn’t just some kids playing around, this was a fucking experience. There were more people inside the log cabin than when Christine’s crap friends were playing and the windows were fogging up. The mood was hyped up, sensual, and exciting. He didn’t consider himself much of a dancer, but he even spotted Nat swaying along to the beat of the music. 

He couldn’t take his eyes off of Tony. He was still in awe of the raw beauty of his voice. He enunciated each and every word so clearly, his face so full of emotion. He noticed Tony licked his lips every time between singing. The way Tony’s brow furrowed when he sang into the microphone... God damn it, he was making Stephen feel things.

The chorus rang in Stephen’s ears as they finished playing, only to be met with a thunderous round of applause and cheers. Stephen couldn’t help but smile for his friends (if he could call them that). They took the applause in stride, Tony grinning into the microphone. 

“Thank you, thank you. That was called ‘Choke’, dedicated to all the women I’ve ever fucked,” he said, catching his breath. 

Someone shouted, “ _Yeah, fuck you, Tony_!”

“You wish, darling,” he responded, and that was met with more whistles and hollering. 

Scott bumped into Stephen and they made eye contact briefly, seeming to acknowledge the greatness that they had just witnessed. 

“I don’t know about you, but I definitely just came a little,” Scott said with a straight face. 

They quickly got into their next song, Bucky starting with a nice solo riff before Clint and Rhodey joined. 

Stephen danced along to every single song, his eyes fixated on the lead singer. How could he have been so blind? Of course Tony could sing. Of course Tony could play the guitar like nobody’s business. Of course he could seduce a crowd within seconds. Everything made total sense. 

Half an hour later, the party came to a halt when a certain blonde marched to the front of the stage, parting the crowd like Moses. Tony ignored her until he finished their song and announced a break. The audience booed but Tony waved them off. He needed a minute anyway. 

“I want a cigarette,” Christine pouted as a playlist took over the sound system. “Does anyone have any smokes?”

Hearing nothing from their little crew, Christine began poking strangers around them and asking the same question. Sure enough someone had one, and Christine held up the little stick like a prized possession.

“Come outside with me? I don’t want to be alone,” she grabbed his hand like he had a choice and weaved through sticky bodies to get to the front door. They stumbled down the steps and settled near a stack of firewood. She tried to light her cigarette several times, but it wasn’t until Stephen cupped his hands around her lighter that she was successful. She thanked him with a kiss on the cheek, blowing smoke away from his face with a nicotine-sated sigh of relief.

Pepper’s harsh voice filtered through the din of the party and Stephen turned to see her dragging Tony out of the cabin by the scruff of his vintage t-shirt. Tony’s back was to him and he watched as Pepper turned, clearly pissed, directing her anger at Tony. Hidden behind the wood pile, he watched the debacle unfold. He was completely hidden in the shadows with Christine while Pepper let loose her wrath. 

“You fucking _left me_ in Syracuse!” She yelled, prodding Tony in the chest with her finger. “I didn’t know you weren’t playing until midnight!”

Tony said something unintelligible and Pepper screamed through grit teeth.

“I don’t fucking care whose party it is, you have a phone, why didn’t you fucking use it??” 

Stephen could see Tony responding, but his voice was so low he couldn’t make out the exact words.

“Are you drunk already? Jesus Christ, Tony. Where are your keys?” Pepper held out her hand and Tony simply put his hands on his hips, saying something else that Stephen couldn’t hear. “No! None of you are driving. I’ll drive you home. Give me your keys, Tony.” 

There were some more words exchanged and Stephen watched as Tony, almost as if in slow motion, took his keys out of his pants pocket and lobbed them into the darkness of the woods. Pepper shouted in surprise and Stephen just saw Tony shrug, completely unrepentant. 

“Real fucking smart. Really mature,” Pepper drawled. “Directly into the brush, that should be fun for your hungover ass tomorrow.” 

Tony said something and Pepper shook her head and stormed off towards her car that was parked in the middle of the driveway.

“Call me when you’re sober!” She hollered from her driver’s seat.

“Don’t count on it!” Tony said loudly. 

Pepper flipped him off and slammed her door shut, starting the engine. He turned to go back into the party before she put her car in drive. Stephen watched him walk angrily towards the front steps and he convinced Christine to go back inside. 

  
  


Sure enough, moments later Tony was taking the stage again. He. took a moment to speak with his band, and then he turned to the microphone and apologized for the interruption. 

“We have just one more song for you this evening before we turn the music back to our lovely host,” Tony said and he was met with disappointed sounds from the audience. Swinging his guitar in front of him, he added, “Don’t be sad, you can catch us next week at the _Silky Cat_. This one is called ‘Novocaine’.” 

Clint counted Bucky in, starting a rather melancholic tune, and then Tony began to sing. His voice was different - lower, smoother. Stephen felt like Tony’s voice was surrounding him, luring him to the stage like a siren.

_Novocaine, I keep it coming so I feel no pain_

_I tell my girl that I'mma change my ways_

_She knows I'm never gonna change_

Rhodey provided a low bass line.

_Same old shit_

_Running my mouth until she busts my lip_

_So many problems, you can take your pick_

_I know I'm never gonna change_

Clint joined with a rhythm reminiscent of a military march, and Bucky began to sing with Tony, their voices melding together in perfect harmony as they recited the lyrics like a mantra.

_I am what I am, I know what I know_

_I'll let you down if you let me too close_

_I am what I am, I know what I know_

_If you catch me running away then you'll know_

  
Then suddenly Tony’s voice was back to the high tenor and Stephen felt every single word reverberate down his spine. 

_I can't change!_

_Guess you can blame it on my left side brain_

_I should know better but you know_

_I know, I know I ain't ever gonna change_

Tony’s face morphed to a vision of pain, and suddenly Stephen realized to what depths Tony poured his heart into his music. It wasn’t just writing catchy tunes - this was his life. This was a direct depiction of his inner self. His voice was gritty and raw as they all continued to sing the chorus.

_Got no shame!_

_Spend all my money as soon as I got paid_

_I should know better but you know_

_I know, I know I ain't ever gonna change_

Stephen let himself be absorbed in the moment. He felt positively high. The alcohol coursing through his veins only exacerbated the vitality he was feeling. The words Tony sang spoke to him like nothing had before and he felt like crying with elation. This was visceral, and real. 

By the time they circled back to the chorus for the final time, the crowd was amped, singing along to what they could remember. People were jumping up and down around Stephen and he felt so connected to each and every person. Before they even sang the final word, the audience was screaming at a deafening level and Stephen just stood there, clapping and hollering like everyone else. 

Christine was the first to run up to Tony after they exited the stage, the funky tunes of _Too Many Zooz_ taking over the speakers. She battled her way through a gaggle of girls and threw her arms around him. Stephen felt a tinge of jealousy but followed. 

“That was _amazing_ ,” She said, and Tony leaned in to whisper something in her ear. She laughed and smacked him on his chest, then turned to the others. “Really guys, that was the best set I ever heard!” 

“What exactly have you been listening to, then?” Rhodey scoffed and upon seeing the hurt look on her face, added, “Just kidding. Thanks, Christine, that means a lot.” 

While everyone crowded the band, Stephen followed Tony who was making a beeline for the pile of liquor in the kitchen. When they broke into clear space, Stephen sidled up to him, placing his arm as casually as he could on the counter.

“That was good,” he said, and he immediately wanted to kill himself. He was deciding between saying ‘really good’ and ‘really amazing’ but he didn’t want to use the same words Christine had just said, and that was what came out. 

“Just _‘good_ ’?” Tony grinned, pouring a hefty serving of whiskey into a red solo cup. “I’m not one to be cocky, Strange, but I think we just blew your fucking mind.” 

“That’s generous,” Stephen said before he could stop himself. Why was he downplaying it? Drunk Stephen was being cool as a cucumber, but inside he was writhing with anxiety. “I’ve heard better things on the radio.” 

“Wow,” Tony blinked and took a long sip of his drink. He sputtered a little and patted Stephen on the shoulder. “Hafta blow your mind another time then.” 

With a classic wink, Tony left Stephen standing at the kitchen island feeling like a total idiot. Stephen sighed and examined the array of alcohol before him. If he was going to be this stupid, he might as well have another drink. 

Stephen woke up in the middle of the dance floor. That is to say, he regained his ability to form new memories while he was surrounded by a circle of people on the dance floor. He looked to his right and saw Christine and Wanda cheering him on. Strangers were looking at him, their faces mildly euphoric, and Stephen couldn’t help but freeze where he stood. 

“Keep dancing, man, that was awesome!” Someone said behind him and Stephen was struck with the realization that everyone was watching him. He had no fucking clue what he was doing seconds prior to that. He’d never danced in his entire life, and considered his technique to be just “white boy flailing”. He attempted to moonwalk out of the center of the circle and got out of there as quickly as he could. 

Water. He needed water. The party was still going and he’d just blacked out for who knows how long. He checked his phone - it was dead. Great. He sifted through the mountain of clutter on the kitchen counter, trying to find the least-dirty-looking plastic cup. As he pushed his way to the sink, a warm body pushed to his side and as he filled up his cup he realized it was Tony. 

“Are you alright?” He said loud enough for Stephen to hear him. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“Just the ghost of my liver,” Stephen chugged the glass of water and immediately went to refill it. Tony didn’t respond, a quizzical look on his face. “I just blacked out and came back. Never been conscious on the other side of that.” 

“Probably time to drink some more,” Tony shrugged, and Stephen noticed he was slurring a little bit. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he offered Tony a sip of his water, but Tony shook his head. 

“I think it’s a great idea. I have zero intentions of remembering tonight,” Tony poured the contents of the nearest bottle into his cup. “Cheers, Strange.” 

Before Stephen could follow Tony into the crowd, he heard Christine shrilly calling his name. He found her on the far side of the dance floor and she was jumping up and down excitedly. 

“Look what Bucky and Sam found!” She pointed towards one of the empty rooms and Stephen thought he was seeing shit. Bucky was wearing a giant Elmo head. The only reason he knew it was him was from his distinct arm tattoos. That, and no one else looked that good in jeans tonight. Christine screamed when Sam walked out wearing a banana costume, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. 

“ _This_ is amazing,” Christine was in awe, pawing at the fuzzy red hairs on Bucky’s head. Stephen didn’t want to think about how dirty that might actually be. 

“There’s like, a whole room of just costumes!” Sam said, beaming. “Fucking ridiculous. Nothing in this house but drugs and costumes and the kitchen sink.” 

Within seconds people were pouring out of the spare room, each wearing a ridiculous costume, full-bodied or otherwise. Stephen saw a pirate with a ridiculously huge head and a beard that touched the floor, someone in a full gorilla suit, another was wandering around as Mario from Mario-Kart. With the light reflecting off of the disco ball and the music still blasting from the DJ, it just added to the absurdity of the evening. 

A particularly popular song came on and all of a sudden the dance floor seemed more packed than ever, or maybe it was because some people suddenly took up twice as much space. Whatever the reason was, Stephen didn’t object when Christine shoved another drink in his hand. He pushed the worry out of his mind - he could deal with the consequences when the sun came up. 

The Elmo head got ripped off of Bucky’s head and was thrown around in the crowd like it was the subject of a mosh pit. 

“Now I have to get another one!” Bucky shouted to no one in particular, and headed back towards the spare room. Stephen smiled at the thought of Bucky tearing through a pile of costumes trying to find the perfect one. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Thor - a good head above the crowd even without a costume - weaving his way through the crowd, his smartphone in his hand. He was laughing joyously and taking pictures with the flash on, saying “ _Oh, this is going on the blog!_ ” after every single one. 

Stephen had no idea what time it was and he didn’t fucking care. Time was immaterial and the only thing that mattered was the _now_. He danced and laughed with strangers, felt connected to other humans in a way he never dreamt possible. He danced with Christine, Wanda, and Nat, and when a person dressed in a gorilla suit inserted themselves in the group, Stephen thought it was funny and danced with them too. 

At that moment he was very aware of his youth. There weren’t going to be many nights like this and for all he knew he would never feel so free again. Fuck it. Throwing caution to the wind, he ripped the stupid gorilla head off of the stranger, and brought his lips to theirs for a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just gonna say this bears repeating, mostly because I absolutely did not write those lyrics:  
> "Choke" by I DON'T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME &  
> "Novocaine" by The Unlikely Candidates
> 
> Leave a comment ;)


	7. Tongue Tied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew deal with the aftermath of the party, Stephen finds out who his mystery man is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Don't take me tongue tied  
>  Don't wave no goodbye  
> Don't take me tongue tied  
> Don't kiss me goodnight  
> Don't...  
> _  
> \- Grouplove

The first thing he felt was searing pain. Sunshine was pouring through a blind-less window and his head was throbbing, begging for complete darkness. He looked around the room. The walls were bare, and he was lying on the only piece of furniture in the room. Christine was snuggled up on his chest and he lifted his head slightly to see a mess of red and blonde hair - Nat and Wanda. 

He’d forgotten that they’d crawled up to the loft and hijacked the only mattress. Someone was passed out in the corner of the room but Stephen couldn’t be bothered to see who it was. He decided to close his eyes and lie as still as possible, trying to piece together the rest of the night and wait for someone else to wake up. 

The whole night was a blur. He remembered it took him awhile to get drunk - he pounded drinks religiously during Christine’s friend’s set - but he remembered very clearly when Tony’s band began to play. He maintained quite a good buzz for a little while but after Tony’s band played, he had his black out and everything after that was a little fuzzy. 

His whole body ached, his legs sore from dancing (or flailing?) for hours on end. Hopefully all of that movement burned off all of the calories he drank. He remembered when Sam and Bucky found that room full of costumes and … ah yes. His gorilla man. 

He couldn’t quite picture his face. He knew they made out for a bit, it certainly felt like hours but for all Stephen knew it could have been mere seconds. The first kiss had been so desperate and needy Stephen was embarrassed to think about how eager he must have seemed. He practically shoved his tongue down this stranger’s throat and tickled his tonsils. All he remembered was the feeling of the stranger’s stubble against his chin, and the taste of cigarettes and whiskey. 

  
  


“I think… something crawled into my mouth and died,” Christine frowned and sat up slowly, running her tongue over her teeth. Wanda sat up, a little less worse for wear, and prodded at the lump next to her. 

“You alive, Nat?” 

“No,” Nat groaned, and rolled over to face Christine. “Nat’s not here, call back later.” 

“We should get going, we have to be at work soon,” Wanda stood and Stephen was extremely jealous of her eighteen-year-old metabolism. “And we should probably find Scott.” 

  
  


After Stephen went downstairs to find the bathroom, Scott was relatively easy to find. He was face-down on the floor, one hand down his unzipped pants and the other propping his head up. Stephen had to kick his leg aside just to get to the toilet. 

“Whazzapin?” Scott startled awake to the sounds of Stephen relieving himself. 

“Morning, Scott,” Stephen said casually, finishing up. “Sleep ok?” 

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” Scott rolled onto his back and clutched his forehead. “Am I alive?” 

“Unfortunately, yes,” Stephen stepped over him to get to the sink. There wasn’t any soap, but he washed himself the best he could. He looked into the mirror after he rinsed off his face and then he saw it - the mother of all hickeys on his neck. Upon closer inspection he saw fucking teeth marks. His pale skin was already starting to bruise, and he hoped Christine owned some decent makeup because he would _never_ live this down at work. “Shit.” 

Scott unsteadily got to his feet and looked into the mirror. 

“Wow, I look like hell,” he said, fixing his pants and trying to flatten the top of his hair. “But at least I don’t look like a vampire victim.” 

Scott shrugged, a frank look on his face, and shuffled out of the bathroom. 

  
  


Stephen would have wanted to explore the area around the cabin if he didn’t feel like total shit. In the five minute walk it took to get to the car, he caught a glimpse of the gorgeous waterfall, and the craftsmanship of the cabin was even more impressive in the daylight. He even pet Thor’s two huskies, Lightning and Thunder, on his way out. 

But the drive back into town was agonizing. He leaned his forehead against the window, willing the coolness of the glass to soothe his headache. He briefly wondered if Tony had managed to dig his keys out of the woods or if he'd just hotwired his car to get home. 

Scott coughed loudly next to him, and Stephen was overwhelmed by the smell of the joint he was burning. 

“Have some,” Scott offered him the doobie. Stephen weakly waved his hand in the air as a response, but Scott was insistent. “It’ll help, I promise.” 

Feeling like he had nothing to lose, Stephen woefully took it out of Scott’s hand. He took one puff and then a wave of nausea hit him like a freight train. The look on his face must have given him away because all he heard was Scott’s frantic voice.

“Out the window, out the window!”

  
  


“I am _so sorry_ , Nat,” he repeated for the umpteenth time. They were waiting in line at a coffee shop. Wanda had taken over the driving responsibilities (she seemed to have the least amount of alcohol still in her system) and had insisted that they stop to refuel. Stephen couldn’t object, considering he had just unloaded the contents of his stomach all over the side of Nat’s car. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she said dryly. Stephen couldn’t read her expression, her eyes covered by a large pair of black sunglasses. “Just buy me a bagel and we’ll be square.” 

After they received their food and drinks they settled into a booth in the far corner of the cafe, Scott pulling up a chair at the end. Stephen sat quietly opposite Christine, chewing slowly on his bagel so as not to tempt the tumultuous monster inside of his belly. Scott was recounting the events that led to his passing out on the bathroom floor, and Stephen was glad he wasn’t the only one whose memory was a bit spotty. 

“The real question is who left the whopper on Stephen’s neck,” Christine grinned, picking at her blueberry muffin. “And did you get Mr. Lover’s number?” 

“Phone died,” Stephen said, “And I’m not sure who it was.” 

“That’s fantastic,” Scott ripped his bagel in half unceremoniously and shoved it into his mouth. “You spend half the evening making out with this dude and you don’t even know who he was.” 

“Half the evening?” Stephen didn’t think he’d lost track of time _that_ bad.

“What did he look like?” Christine pressed. She planted her elbows on the table and leaned towards Stephen, causing him to squirm under her insistent gaze.

“I don’t know, I had my eyes closed.” 

“ _Aww_ , you’re such a romantic, Stephen,” Nat wrinkled her nose at him. “Well, we’ll probably find out who it was once Thor posts on his blog.” 

“Excuse me?” Stephen almost choked. It was bad enough having the physical evidence on his neck, the last thing he needed was half the town seeing him making out with a total stranger. 

“You saw him, didn’t you? He always posts photos from his parties on his website,” Nat said, a quaint smile forming on her lips. “We’ll just have to wait and see.” 

Stephen decided at that moment he would have been quite happy if he never found out who it was. It seemed like he didn’t have a choice - and that impending doom would be hanging over his head as he prepared for his shift later that night. 

Nat dropped him and Christine off at their apartment. There were a couple of hours left before they had to start making their way up the hill. Christine ran full speed to her bed and crashed, but Stephen decided to take a shower. He needed to rinse last night’s debauchery off his body, needed to scrub his skin clean like he was trying to rid himself of shame. 

He’d been reckless and stupid. He drank too much. He felt like ass and he looked like garbage. It had been incredibly fun, definitely memorable - but was it worth it? 

He took a power nap before Christine had to drive them to work. She did her best to apply makeup to the hickey, but it was placed perfectly above his work shirt’s collar, even if he buttoned it to the top. It was hopeless. The teasing was going to be relentless. 

  
  


The mood at _Bella_ ’s was pretty somber. More than half the staff was incredibly hungover, the music in the kitchen was nonexistent. Bruce saw this as an opportunity to blast his music while they worked on their opening duties, and Pepper joined in on the fun. They danced together behind the bar, clearly revelling in everyone else’s misery.

“Death would be kinder,” Scott winced as Bruce sang along (loudly) to Cyndi Lauper. 

“No one forced you to drink your body weight in cheap beer, Scott,” Pepper said scathingly, placing a rack of silverware on the table with a loud _thunk_. 

“Eew, I didn’t drink beer. Jungle juice all the way, baby.” 

Pepper leaned into his ear. “Suck it up, Lang.” 

  
  


Service began smoothly. Stephen chugged a quart of ginger ale during the staff meeting and kept a cup of hot tea near the server’s station. His stomach had settled and he felt relatively prepared to deal with what should have been a slow Sunday evening. 

As luck would have it, there was some sort of performance at the university and around 6pm several parties showed up waiting to be seated. All of a sudden the restaurant was full, and he and the other servers struggled to keep up. The kitchen reverted back to their normal energy levels and any remnants of the night before seemed to be forgotten. 

That was until Nat burst through the kitchen doors, her phone in her hand. Stephen was waiting to bring dishes out to his tables when Nat pushed him back. 

“He posted,” She said fiercely, a smile quivering on her lips. She shoved her phone in Stephen’s hand and told him to scroll through Thor’s website. 

No big deal. Thor thanked everyone for an epic going away party and for people being polite enough to vomit off the side of the porch instead of _on_ the porch. There were pictures from before they got there, the cabin illuminated by a colorful sunset. It all looked so clean before half the town came to destroy it. 

Nat urged him to scroll towards the end. Thor actually took some really decent pictures of Tony’s band playing. But it was the other photos Stephen was looking for - he saw Sam and Bucky dressed up in their costumes, saw the Elmo head getting tossed in the background - and then he saw the gorilla. 

Obviously Thor didn’t capture the first moment Stephen kissed the guy, that would have been ridiculous. Stephen kept scrolling through, his anxiety through the roof. The gorilla was dancing with Wanda, with Christine. He got in between Stephen and shoved his ass into Stephen’s groin. Surely there would be a photo with the mask _off_ \- 

“I KNOW WHO IT IS!” Scott proudly swaggered through the swinging doors and held up his phone like a trophy. As he started to sing, Stephen’s eyes landed on a familiar face. “ _Stephen and Tony, sitting in a tree. F - U - C - K - I - N - G!”_

  
  
  


“You kissed _me_ , remember?” Tony said loudly. He and Stephen were in the walk in, the only place they could get any semblance of privacy. As soon as Scott relayed the news, Clint howled with laughter, Bucky punched Tony on the arm, and Rhodey shook his head while he watched his steaks on the grill. Tony had marched towards the walk in and it was silently understood that Stephen should meet him there. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t _know_ it was you!” Stephen threw his hands up in frustration. “I would’ve kissed anybody!”

“Didn’t you, though?” Tony gave him a look, disbelieving.

“Whatever,” Stephen huffed. “It doesn’t matter. We have to get our stories straight.” 

“About what?” Tony was indignant. “It was just a kiss!”

“The welt on my neck suggests otherwise,” Stephen pointed to the hickey, his skin still raised and discolored despite Christine’s attempt at a cover up. 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Friends kiss each other all of the time. Look—” 

Before Stephen could protest, Tony had grabbed both sides of his head and pulled him in for what was probably meant to be a quick kiss, but as their lips met, Tony hesitated. It felt… perfect. Stephen surrendered and suddenly Tony’s lips were all over his, his tongue parting Stephen’s lips. Tony deepened the kiss and pushed Stephen’s back against the shelf. Stephen was struggling to control his breaths. He felt Tony push his hips into his and a moan escaped his mouth...

A loud crash in the hallway startled them, and Tony pulled back instinctively, alert. Looking to the door, they could hear the raucous laughter of the kitchen crew and realized they were still safe. But the moment had ended, and Tony slowly met Stephen’s gaze, his lips still wet. 

“See?” Tony said quietly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His face was completely unreadable, but his voice stayed soft. “It was just a kiss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me lol.  
> Leave a comment :D


	8. Daft Pretty Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Rogers duke it out. Stephen needs someone to walk him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Yeah, there's one thing about me that you should know  
>  That I can't help from speaking my mind  
> There's a dangerous kind of cool about you  
> _\- Bad Suns

“Who’s it gonna be, Strange? Me or Cap?” 

When Stephen got invited to  _ The Silky Cat _ by Steve Rogers, he was not expecting this. He’d had his first day off in a few days and spent it catching up on his life. He borrowed Christine’s car to go to the grocery store, caught up on laundry, and paid the electric bill. He’d just opened a beer when he got the text.

He’d barely stepped foot within the entrance way before Rogers and Tony planted themselves in front of him, their arms both folded across their chests. The looks on their faces were grim and frankly, after the last couple of weeks, he was feeling a little salty. He made eye contact with Rogers. 

“Uh… I’m with you, Cap,” he said, removing his jacket and folding it over his arm. Tony narrowed his eyes and Rogers simply smirked. 

“Thought so,” Rogers turned to his opponent and said smugly, “Take a seat, Stark.” 

“Bite my balls, Rogers.” 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Rogers threw his arm over Stephen’s shoulders and pulled him into the bar. Tony stormed off, finding Nat at the bar and whispering in her ear. Stephen watched her grab two pitchers of beer and drop one off at a table with Sam and Bucky, and then she walked four booths away to a table with Rhodey and Clint. 

Stephen’s heart sank as he read the chalkboard behind the bar. Trivia night. 

“You made the right call, Stephen,” Rogers was saying. “Nat’s kind of a double agent when it comes to these games, so you decided which team she played.” 

“I can’t play,” Stephen inched towards the bar but Rogers pulled him back. He had to lie. “I’m horrible at trivia.”

“While I’m disappointed that you say that, it doesn’t matter,” Rogers shoved him into the booth next to Bucky, and he sat on the other side next to Sam. “You’re part of the  _ Bella _ ’s family now. It’s about playing the game, not winning the game.” 

“Don’t listen to him Stephen, that’s a fucking lie,” Sam poured Stephen a beer from the pitcher, and then topped his own glass off. “If we don’t win you’re dead to us.” 

Stephen looked to Bucky who just shrugged and then after a moment, nodded in agreement. Great. 

“Did you guys submit the group name already?” Rogers asked his teammates. 

“Yeah, you’re going to love it,” Bucky said with a sly grin, and Rogers knew he was in trouble. 

“...No, you didn’t,” he shot a glare at his best friend. “I thought we agreed on the same name as last time.” 

“First off, Cap, that’s not true and you know it. Secondly, you haven’t gotten laid since 1945 and we’re only helping you out,” Sam patted Rogers on the shoulder, who frowned at the gross exaggeration. 

“It’s been a while, not  _ decades _ ,” Rogers crossed his arms and slumped back in the booth. 

“What’s the team name?” Stephen asked, not understanding the joke they were all in on. 

“Tell Stephen the name of the group, Cap,” Bucky goaded. He sipped his beer as Rogers stared daggers at him. With a sigh, Rogers relented. 

“ _ Captain Feelgood _ .” 

Stephen got up to buy another pitcher of beer while the announcer listed off the registered team names. There were some punny ones - _Les Quizerables, E=MC Hammer,_ _Born to Runner-up_ , and _I Thought This Was Speed Dating_ , but the one that caught his attention was obviously, _Nat’s an Iron Maiden_. He looked over to their table as it was called and Tony was dog-whistling while Clint and Rhodey clapped. Nat sat at the table with her arms folded, an unamused look on her face. It was a total boys club. 

The layout of the evening was pretty straightforward: four categories with five questions each. Teams would have ninety seconds to answer the question and turn it into the announcer on a slip of paper. For each correct answer, teams would receive a point. The team with the most amount of points by the end would win. In the event of a tie, teams would answer questions until one team finally won. 

Stephen resigned himself to only providing the correct answer when necessary. He didn’t want to get caught “cheating”, his eidetic memory assured he’d be able to pull up any arbitrary fact he’d ever read within seconds. He had to play it cool.

When he got back to the table, the announcer had started to read off the first category. It was sports, and beyond some fairly well-known statistics, Stephen didn’t know jack shit about sports. He quietly sipped his beer while Sam, Bucky, and Rogers argued. Sam and Bucky were pretty much the same at work as they were outside of work. Rogers, on the other hand, felt no pressure to maintain his image of propriety, and actually swore a lot. Stephen was impressed. 

“Are you fucking  _ high _ ?” Rogers slapped his hand on the table, “It wasn’t Michael Jordan. It was Larry motherfucking Bird.” 

“Look, MJ coached, owns a team, and obviously won MVP,” Bucky counted on his fingers. “There aren’t even any contenders.” 

“I’m sorry, when did MJ ever win ‘Coach of the Year’? Or ‘Executive’, for that matter? Don’t fucking try me, Buck, you’ll lose,” Rogers stole the scrap paper out of Bucky’s hand and began writing down his preferred answer. “We’re submitting my answer and that’s final.”

Rogers stormed off towards the announcer’s station. When he was out of earshot, Sam smirked.

“You know he was right, right?”

“I know,” Bucky threw his head back as he drained his glass. He belched loudly, drawing looks from people seated in the next booth. “I just like to rile him up once in a while.” 

  
  
  


_ Captain Feelgood _ and  _ Nat’s an Iron Maiden _ were neck and neck. They were in the last category,  _ Food _ , and things were getting cutthroat. Multiple pitchers of beer had been purchased and drank by their table, and Stephen definitely felt a bit buzzed. He felt pretty confident sitting around a bunch of people who worked in the culinary world; they ought to know  _ something _ about food. 

“‘Donuts are traditionally served in boxes containing how many pieces?’” Sam read off of the projector. 

“That’s easy. Thirteen,” Steve settled his elbows on the table and aimed to begin to write, but Sam gently placed his hand on the Captain’s forearm.

“Cap… tell me you’ve ordered donuts before?” He said seriously. “They come in a dozen.”

“No, they come in a  _ baker's _ dozen,” Roger’s looked at him quizzically. “Right, Buck?”

Bucky shrugged. Rogers turned his attention to Stephen. 

“Um… I believe Sam’s right,” Stephen said meekly, put off by Rogers’ intense gaze. 

“That bakery in Brooklyn,  _ Peter Pan _ , how many donuts come in a box?” Rogers asked his tattooed counterpart. 

“Thirteen,” Bucky replied. 

“See? Thirteen.”

“That’s in  _ Brooklyn _ , dumbass. The world exists outside of your tiny-ass bubble. Gimme the paper,” Sam tore the paper out of Rogers’ hands and proceeded to write down his answer, grumbling. “Thirteen… like that makes any fucking sense.” 

“If you’re wrong, you’re doing my side work for the week,” Rogers said tersely, getting up to bring their answer to the announcer. 

“Fine,” Sam agreed, a smile on his face. “But I’m not wrong, so…Eat it.” 

When the announcer read off the answers to the next question, Sam and Bucky went crazy. The question asked which spice was most popular in the world,  _ Captain Feelgood _ had decided on the correct answer, which was pepper. Judging by the gloomy look on their faces, Tony’s team did  _ not _ get the right answer.

“I’m surprised you got that wrong!” Rogers hollered across the bar, cupping his hands around his mouth to make sure Tony could hear him.

“I’m surprised you can spell her name,” Tony shot back, “You dumb sack of shit!”

“Are we just supposed to take that and be okay with it?” Sam asked, appalled. “Tell that motherfucker to shut his trap.”

Rogers stood and yelled even louder, for the entire bar to hear.

“Yeah? At least I made her  _ squirt _ !”

The silence was deafening. Tony had gotten to his feet immediately. He’d tried to climb over Rhodey so he could (presumably) strangle Rogers, but the loyal bassist tugged his friend down by his shirt and tried to talk him down. 

“Breathe, buddy, he didn’t mean it,” they heard Rhodey say. Stephen stole a glance at Tony, his nostrils flaring, his fists clenched. He didn’t like that statement at all. After the level of noise in the bar started to get back to normal, Stephen turned to Rogers. 

“You did  _ what _ ?” 

“It was a long time ago,” Rogers’ cheeks reddened. He slouched his back, trying to shrink in the booth. It wasn’t working. “I slept with Pepper for a bit.”

“Huh,” Stephen tried to digest the new information. So Rogers  _ and _ Tony had a thing going on with Pepper? Was that why they hated each other sometimes? Stephen always thought it was friendly competition, but maybe it went deeper than that. “Is that why you got promoted?” 

He’d said it before he thought about it, and the glare Rogers was giving him made him want to take it back immediately. He didn’t dare look at Bucky’s face, the shocked look on Sam’s face all he needed to see. Fuck, he really needed to learn how to keep his mouth shut! 

Then, Rogers’ lips curled into a smile and he laughed. Stephen was  _ so relieved _ . He couldn’t afford to alienate anyone at work.

“That was good,” Rogers clinked his pint glass against Stephen’s, nodding. “That was really good.”

“Welcome to Bella’s Bar and Restaurant, where everyone sleeps with everyone and nothing is sacred,” Bucky poured the last of the pitcher into Stephen’s drink. 

  
  


“Last question, ladies and gentlemen, settle down,” The announcer attempted to hush the bar patrons. Stephen wasn’t exactly sure who was winning, he hadn’t been keeping track - but he knew their two teams were very close. “L-cysteine, an amino acid used to preserve the shelf life of bread, is most commonly derived from what?”

Stephen knew the answer, but apparently so did Bucky. They spoke at the same time. 

“Human hair.”

Sam’s face contorted in disgust. “I’m not surprised at Bucky at all, but how the fuck did you know that so quick, Stephen?”

“Biology 101,” Stephen shrugged. “It can also be produced from duck feathers and cow horns, but the larger-scale manufacturers, particularly out of China, just use human hair.” 

“Don’t ask me how I know,” Bucky said darkly, his blue eyes suddenly threatening. 

“You still like that Wonder Bread, Cap?” Sam grimaced. “Mmm hair.”

“That’s pretty gross, I’ll admit,” Rogers wrote down the answer, then added, “Nice work, Stephen.” 

  
  


After Rogers submitted their answer, they sat back and waited for the announcer to tally up the results. Apparently they counted before the final answer was revealed just in case there wasn’t a need to go to the next round. Stephen felt pretty tipsy, and after listening to those three men verbally attack each other for an hour or so, he felt pretty comfortable. He decided it would be a good time to ask all those questions he never bothered to find out while they were at work. 

“Why do you all live in the same house?”

“Band bonding, my guy,” Bucky hooked his arm over Stephen’s shoulder and shook it. “It’s good for morale.”

“That and Tony can wake us up whenever he feels like jamming at 2AM,” Sam rolled his eyes. 

“But… you don’t play in the band, Sam,” Stephen pointed out. 

“Yeah but as  _ band manager _ I gotta be there for all of the good stuff,” Sam said, like Stephen was a complete dunce. “Some of Tony’s best stuff comes from his early morning riffs.” 

“And that’s why I don’t live at that dump,” Rogers said smartly. 

“Yeah, Cap likes his beauty sleep,” Sam winked.

“That, and he likes his privacy when he jerks off to Judy Garland,” Bucky added. Rogers wadded up a bar napkin and threw it across the table. 

“That was  _ one time _ ,” he clarified to Stephen, then glared at his friends. “You guys are really on my fucking case tonight.” 

“Being on the same trivia team wouldn’t boost morale?” Stephen asked aloud. Clint and Rhodey were at Tony’s table too, and he wondered why they just didn’t play this game together. 

“Listen, Stephen - when you live, work, and play music with the same people all damn day, sometimes you just need to shake things up a little,” Sam reasoned. 

Sam’s voice was drowned out by the announcer reading off everyone’s answers. Some teams had just given up, giving ridiculous answers like  _ alien ejaculate _ or  _ the amino acid store _ . Tony’s team gave the same answer as Rogers’ team. 

“Well folks, it’s been a riveting game,” the announcer sighed, “But all good things must come to an end. Two teams were in competition for the top spot, separated by one point. Please put your hands together for our winning team,  _ CAPTAIN FEELGOOD _ !” 

If the table wasn’t bolted to the floor, Bucky would have flipped it. Stephen remained seated, enjoying his beer, but also enjoying how happy his teammates were. Sam had leapt over the booth to join unwilling folks at the next table, and they were causing such a ruckus Stephen saw the bouncer poke his head in the front door. 

“Good game, Cap,” Tony had made his way over to the table, holding out his hand for Rogers to shake. “...even if you  _ are _ a cocksucking twat waffle.” 

“Thanks, Tone,” Rogers said dryly, shaking Tony’s hand dutifully. “Same time next week?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

  
  
  


Stephen stumbled out of the bar. It was nearing midnight, closing time still an hour away, but Stephen had decided after he could barely pee straight that he’d had enough to drink and needed to go home. The small percentage of his brain that was still sober told him he really needed to get his drinking under control. Every time he hung out with people from Bella’s they drank. It was exhausting, but he tried not to hate himself too much. After all, he didn’t have any particular reason to wake up before noon anyway. All he really  _ had _ to do was show up for work and work on his med school applications.

As he walked, he studied the cobblestones intensely. Even for a Tuesday, the Commons was kind of busy. People were still lined up at the pizza place halfway down the block, and the  _ Starlight _ still had a bouncer at the door. Rogers didn’t even blink when Stephen said good-bye. Stephen just quietly excused himself and left the table. No one would notice he had gone, no one would care… 

“Hey,” a voice called after him. He ignored it. “ _ Hey, Stephen _ .”

Perplexed at hearing his own name, Stephen slowly turned. Tony was jogging up to him, a cigarette already loosely hanging out of his mouth. 

“What are you -”

“You left without saying good-bye,” Tony caught up to him and noticed the glossy look in Stephen’s unfocused eyes. “Whoa. Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Stephen waved him off. He winced as he felt his stomach churn, the cheap beer rolling around his stomach with a vengeance. “I just… I just need to get back to the apartment.” 

“Okay, that’s fine,” Tony took the cigarette out of his mouth and threw it on the ground, stomping it into the cracks of the cobblestone. “But you’re not going alone. Let me walk you home.” 

Stephen couldn’t have said no, even if he wanted to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting, I had a shit ton of work to do this week. Finals are coming :( 
> 
> Leave a comment!
> 
> edit: the kiss will be addressed on the walk home ;)


	9. Make a Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen comes to terms with "the kiss", takes matters into his own hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _I'm waiting on you  
>  To come and make a move  
> So what you gonna do  
> Just come and make a move  
> _  
> \- Emma Wahlin

“Oh, please. Britney Spears _pales_ in comparison to Madonna,” If Stephen wasn’t being propped up by Tony on the walk home, the suggestion itself would have made him fall over. 

The brisk air of a late October evening was slightly sobering, but not enough to get Stephen to shut up about his favorite ‘80s pop singers. 

“I won’t recant my statement,” Tony said stubbornly, pausing to reposition Stephen’s arm over his shoulder, “But at least we can agree on Mariah and Whitney.”

“God yes.”

As they left the downtown area, the view became much more suburban. Quaint townhouses in varying states of repair lined the streets, the occasional well-kept Victorian home littered sparsely in between. The street lamps cast a yellow hue over the boys as they walked. Stephen could still make out the fine features of Tony’s face, and occasionally, he would steal a glance.

When Tony’s face wasn’t obstructed by a dramatic shadow, Stephen liked to watch Tony’s eyes. They were incredibly expressive, his brow furrowed as he focused on (basically) dragging Stephen eight blocks to his apartment. The slight curve to his nose seemed to be exaggerated by the overhead lighting, and Stephen couldn’t help but notice how enticing Tony’s lips were. 

It wasn’t fair. After their kiss in the walk in, Tony barreled out of there and left Stephen to calm himself down before he faced the kitchen crew. But service was full-swing and Stephen supposed the rampant alcoholism and drug abuse had given the staff the blessing of incredibly limited short-term memory. It was like nothing happened. 

The hickey on his neck disappeared like the crew’s fascination with Tony’s love life. Tony certainly pretended it didn’t have any impact on his daily life, so Stephen kept quiet. 

He talked about it with Christine. She was flippant and dismissive, the usual. Tony’s antics weren’t anything to pay attention to and Stephen would be better off focusing his attention elsewhere. 

But Stephen couldn’t let it go. It meant something, it had to. He’d never felt such thrill, such excitement, all from just being in Tony’s presence. 

The temporary solution was to avoid Tony like the plague. He didn’t linger in the kitchen waiting for his orders, didn’t wait for Sam to finish running the dishwasher so he could bring clean glassware to the bar. He stayed on the floor as much as possible, and when the rest of the crew went out for drinks, he opted to go home if Tony was going, too. 

He wouldn’t have gone out that night if it wasn’t for Rogers. To his knowledge, the man hardly hung out with the others and usually went home to be by himself in his apartment. Rogers seemed like such a homebody, so Stephen said “fuck it” and met him at the Silky like he was told. 

Now the irony gods were surely rolling on the floor laughing at him. He was drunk on a Tuesday and of course Tony Stark was escorting his sloppy ass home. There was an opportunity here if Stephen could just get over his fear of rejection. They approached the monolithic Catholic church two blocks away from his apartment and he felt his chances of reckoning quickly disappearing. Emboldened by liquid courage, he threw caution to the wind.

“I have a question for you,” Stephen pulled his arm off of Tony’s shoulder and turned sideways to face him.

“Shoot,” Tony rolled his shoulders, temporarily relieved from the burden of Stephen’s body mass. 

“That night in the walk-in - you didn’t feel anything when you kissed me?” Stephen unconsciously licked his own lips. Tony didn’t answer immediately. Reaching into the breast pocket of his jean jacket, he pulled out a cigarette and lit up. After a couple of puffs, his eyes raked over Stephen’s expectant face. His expression was impassive.

“What do you want me to say, huh?” He exhaled deeply, the last tendrils of smoke curling around his face. 

Stephen had quite a few things he wanted Tony to say, actually. That it was the best kiss of his life, or that he’d never felt that way before about anyone. Then he wanted Tony to push him up against the uneven stone wall and take him right then and there. It was probably too much to ask. He felt his heart pounding in his chest and he couldn’t hold back any longer. 

“I want you to tell me it meant something to you, too,” Stephen closed the distance between them and for once, Tony didn’t object. Time seemed irrelevant as their lips met, and even through the taste of whiskey and tobacco, Stephen attacked Tony’s mouth like a starving man. 

He cradled Tony’s face with his hands and he felt weak when he felt Tony pull him closer by yanking at his belt loops. They stumbled backwards into the shadows of the church, Stephen grunting as his back hit the wall. He was out of breath, Tony’s lips only leaving his to take a quick nip at his neck. 

They paused to look at each other. Tony’s heavily lidded eyes fell to his lips and suddenly they were kissing again. Tony parted Stephen’s lips and his tongue was searching, savoring. Stephen moaned as Tony pressed his hips into his clothed erection, the fabric of his jeans painfully restricting his pleasure. Stephen was starting to care less that Tony never answered his question. 

His skin felt like it was on fire. Tony had ripped his shirt out of the safe confines of his jeans, the sensitive skin of his belly exposed to the cold night air. He felt the warmth of Tony’s fingers on his skin, one hand undoing his fly, the other moving tantalizingly slowly below his waistband. Tony deepened the kiss, his lips capturing the moan escaping Stephen’s mouth as his hand firmly grasped his weeping length.

This was sacrilegious, to be sure. Stephen wasn’t sure how they hadn’t been struck down by lightning yet, the absurdity and hotness of the situation clouded by his need for release. Tony’s grip was steady and measured, Stephen’s pleasure undulating when his brain didn’t try to overthink what was actually happening. He tried to be quiet, he really did - he was quite aware there were probably people sleeping in the houses nearby and they didn’t need to be woken by two drunk assholes in the middle of the night.

But he could have cried when he felt Tony spreading his pre-cum over the head of his cock. It was becoming too much - he wanted to pause, take a break - make Tony walk him home, and then they could do things properly. But he was too caught up in the moment and he didn’t want to give Tony any reason to stop. He could feel the tight coil in the pit of his stomach, his balls drawing closer to his body as his pleasure almost reached its peak. 

“Tony, I think I’m going to -”

Without warning, Tony dropped to his knees and Stephen was positive he was dying. The warmth was unbearable, the wetness and suction as Tony closed his mouth around Stephen’s length had him seeing stars. With a groan, he came down Tony’s throat, mindlessly rutting as Tony pushed his hips against the wall. He wanted to come again just feeling Tony swallowing his spend. When his cock stopped twitching, Tony pulled off with a satisfying _pop_. Stephen quickly tucked himself back into his jeans, the cold air uninviting. The moment wasn’t over, yet - Tony leaned in and his lips moved languidly over Stephen’s, the bitter taste of spunk still on his tongue. Stephen found it wholly erotic and let Tony explore his mouth once more, giving into the sensation and basking in the feeling of Tony’s body against his. 

He wanted to return the favor, and he snaked his hands around Tony’s waist, hoping to gain access - but Tony stopped him with his hands. 

“We should get going,” Tony breathed, his forehead pressed against Stephen’s. He turned, heading back out towards the lamp-lit sidewalk, and Stephen took a moment to catch his breath. He heard the flick of Tony’s lighter, another cigarette already in his precious mouth. 

Reluctantly, he removed himself from the church wall. He didn’t doubt he would have bruises from the imprint of the rough stone. Tony walked ahead of him slowly, his figure hunched slightly as he smoked his cigarette. 

Much to Stephen’s disdain, they walked the next two blocks in silence. Anything Stephen could think of asking was quickly quelled by Tony’s mood, suddenly brooding. Maybe he was overthinking things like Stephen was, or worse, maybe he was filled with regret. They’d both probably had too much to drink, and Stephen hated to think that this could all be chalked up to drunken behavior again.

They arrived at Stephen’s front steps and Stephen fumbled to find his keys. 

“Do you want to come in?” He offered, the hopefulness in his voice way too obvious for his liking. 

“No,” Tony said quietly. Stephen couldn’t help but feel slightly crushed. “You work tomorrow?” 

“Yeah.”

“Cool,” Tony ashed his cigarette on the sidewalk, then buttoned up his coat, averting his gaze once more. “See you then.” 

Tony began to walk away and Stephen reeled. He couldn’t believe he was trying to leave, just like that. 

“Tony, wait,” Stephen removed his keys from the lock and followed Tony onto the sidewalk. Tony turned, his regard unwavering. “You never answered my question.” 

Tony took two steps forward, his face inches from Stephen’s. 

“I’m not good for you,” Tony said with steely reserve, “We’re better off as friends.” 

A surprised laugh fell out of Stephen’s mouth and suddenly he felt stone-cold sober. 

“But -”

“See ya tomorrow,” Tony turned and left before Stephen could get another word in edgewise. 

Flustered, Stephen stood with his hands on his hips, his cheeks flushing as he watched Tony walk away. If it were the middle of the day, he would have hollered after the infuriating imbecile. But the neighborhood was dead quiet, the sound of peepers in the local creek dominating the soundscape. He tried not to focus on the shuffling sound of Tony’s footsteps fading into the distance. 

When Tony was no longer visible, he moved to go inside of his apartment. There were so many things left unsaid. Primarily, one question came to mind. 

What the actual fuck?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be in the last chapter, just didn't want to make you read a 4k chapter. Enjoy :) 
> 
> Leave a comment! 
> 
> (I am aware Tony is a total tit)  
> && more detailed tags will be added


	10. Cringe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain has some sage advice. Stephen eavesdrops. Tony has a confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lover come hold me  
>  _Heads on the fritz  
>  Body intoxicated  
> Feelings comfortably mixed  
> Lover come hold me  
> Could you forget?  
> I got a secret  
> _  
> \- Matt Maeson

Stephen stared into the darkness of his bedroom. He was sprawled on his back, headphones stuffed into his ears, blasting comforting pop songs from decades past. Christine had brought someone home from the bar or the library or wherever she was and they were not being quiet. While their bedrooms didn’t share a wall, that didn’t stop the repeated banging of her headboard from reaching his ears. 

He drowned out her wails with his favorite Mariah Carey songs. Sleep sounded like a good idea but he just couldn’t get over the events of the evening. What had started as an innocent night out quickly became insanely debaucherous and he couldn’t help but be a little pleased with himself. One thing was for certain - Tony liked dick.

Tony Stark. That flirty fuck from work, the one who fucked the boss in her office in front of everyone for what Stephen presumed was  _ not _ the first time. Tony Stark, the guy who picked up random girls at every party he went to and never went home from the bar alone. Less than an hour ago, Tony Stark had  _ his mouth _ around Stephen’s dick. 

Granted, it took a whopping two seconds for Stephen to orgasm. Not his proudest moment, but he really hadn’t expected anything like that to happen. He didn’t think someone would be jerking him off outside of church, let alone the other thing. His cock was hardening just thinking about it. 

But Tony’s words echoed in his brain. 

_ I’m not good for you. We’re better off as friends. _

Just friends? Friends who fucked, or…? Stephen had a lot of questions. He had come to understand that a lot of the staff at  _ Bella _ ’s had quite relaxed mindsets on casual sex and he was intrigued. He was used to one-night stands, but he never had to see those people ever again. How on earth did people show up to work the next day after they’d had sex and pretend everything was normal?

Stephen was probably getting ahead of himself, not like he and Tony had penetrative sex or that they  _ would _ be in that situation ever again. Not like Tony’s lips would ever be wrapped around his cock again, not like he’d be able to run his hands through Tony’s silky hair again…

Feeling his erection straining against the cotton of his underwear, he sighed and reached over to his bed stand for a squirt of lotion. He wasn’t going to fall asleep until he exhausted himself, thinking about a certain frustrating brunette. 

  
  
  


“Heard you kicked ass at trivia last night,” Scott threw himself against the counter, upsetting the glasses Stephen was putting away. 

“Jesus, hello to you, too,” Stephen had been in a daze since he woke up, the walk up the hill doing nothing to ease his troubled mind. “It went alright. Where were you?” 

“Had a thing with my friend Luis,” Scott said casually. “Tuesdays don’t usually work for me.” 

The open-endedness of his statement was begging for Stephen to ask more questions, but he didn’t bite. Scott didn’t really care. He prattled on and Stephen half-listened. Whatever Scott was getting into on Tuesday nights sounded a little bit shady, possibly illegal. Stephen was spared when the cooks began to bring the staff meal into the dining room.

“Grub, ladies and gents!” Rhodey hollered, whacking a spoon against an aluminum pan. “Come get it while it’s hot!” 

Stephen finished putting away the glasses and began to move towards the buffet of food, but was pulled aside by Rhodey. He dragged him into the kitchen and pointed at a singular plate underneath the heat lamp. 

“What is this?” Stephen asked, but Rhodey just laughed.

“You’re something else, Strange,” He shook his head, shoving the plate into Stephen’s hands. “You work here for two months and don’t have the balls to tell us you’re fucking vegetarian?” 

“I didn’t want to be a burden -” 

“This is a restaurant. We serve food. When people eat the food, it makes us happy. When our servers are being dumbass dipshits because they’re hungry because they never told us they didn’t eat fucking meat, we get angry. Do you want to make us angry, Stephen?”

“Uh, no,” Stephen blushed. He’d always managed to find something to eat, he didn’t think it was that big of a deal.

“Good,” Rhodey thumped him on the back and began to lead him back out into the dining room. “Take five, sit down, and eat your fucking plate of bamboo or whatever.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, I didn’t make it.”

“Who did?”

“Tony,” Rhodey pushed open the swinging doors, leaving Stephen to stare at his specialized dinner. He didn’t remember telling Tony he was vegetarian, but shit. This was incredibly thoughtful. He smiled, making a mental note to thank Tony as soon as he could. 

  
  
  


Service started with a bang. The briefing had taken longer than usual, and they rushed off the floor to be prepared for opening. Pepper was running a bizarre special to bring up numbers midweek, and it was stressful for everyone. Two entrees for the price of one meant more work for less money. People were historically terrible at tipping when something was considered “free”, and he suddenly understood why Nat had requested Wednesdays off indefinitely. 

“Tony, I said I needed the bolognese and the burger, not the veggie bowl,” Rogers came back into the kitchen, putting the offending plate back up underneath the heat lamp. Stephen had followed him, needing to grab more silverware.

“Cap, you can’t blame the kitchen because your stubby little fingers can’t press buttons,” Tony said nonchalantly, continuing to plate someone else’s food. “It said table fourteen, bolognese and veggie bowl, no cheese.”

Rogers grabbed the ticket from the stabber and looked it over. His face fell. “But the veggie bowl doesn’t have any cheese.” 

“That’s what I said, when I started to make it - but then I thought, no way Cap would fuck it up that bad. He won at trivia last night, he can’t be  _ that _ stupid,” Tony looked pointedly at the server captain and Stephen stifled a laugh. The look on Rogers’ face was precious, a mixture of humility and humiliation. 

“Can I have a burger, please, for table fourteen?” Rogers said in a quiet voice. 

“Tell ya what. Stephen,” Tony called out and Stephen nearly jumped. “Can the Cap take your burger for table two since he’s a moron?” 

“Sure,” Stephen smiled, a wave of relief washing over Rogers. “They need refills from the bar anyway.” 

Rogers mouthed  _ thank you _ , and took off with the recently plated burger. Stephen finally caught Tony’s eye and he leapt at the chance.

“Thank you for dinner, Tony,” Stephen was happy to finally have eaten enough at the staff meal to not be hungry an hour later. “It was delicious, the sauce you made -”

“No problem,” Tony cut him off, ready to call out another order. “What else are friends for?”

Tony winked at him and began calling out the next order. It wasn’t much, but it was something. It was enough to make him smile as he walked back out into the dining room, his heart warmed with the glimmer of hope.

  
  
  


Rogers was having somewhat of a bad evening. His usually pristine hair was falling out of place and he pushed it back while he stared at the computer screen. 

“You alright?” Stephen asked, carefully putting menus back in their designated space. “You seem a bit distracted tonight.” 

“Yeeeah,” Rogers said slowly, “Kinda wish Buck was working, I could use the backup in the kitchen.” 

“You think they’re still pissed we won?”

“It’s not about the game,” Rogers said sternly. “It’s about the smack talk during the game. I think I may have taken it too far.” 

“You were just having fun,” Stephen reasoned. “They were laughing.” 

“Yeah, except the one time they weren’t,” Rogers looked out of the corner of his eye and Stephen knew exactly what he was talking about. “Word of advice from your dear Captain: keep your bedroom shenanigans private. No one needs to know when you get your dick wet.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Finally finished, Rogers patted him on the back and went to go pick up his drinks. Stephen knew he’d go ballistic if he ever found out what happened on his walk home. Smiling to himself, he entered his order into the computer. 

  
  
  
  


Stephen should have known better than to eavesdrop, but the evening had slowed and Pepper did something she never did - settled at the bar to finish her work. 

“You should go home, Pep,” Bruce slid a sparkling water across the bar. “You don’t look so good.”

“Thanks, I’m just tired,” she took a sip of the water and added, “Can I have a splash of bitters, too?” 

Bruce grabbed a tiny bottle of angostura bitters and topped her off with a few drops. 

“So late night, or…?” He prodded. Bruce was extremely good at his job. He always said a bartender wore several hats - drinkmaker, babysitter, therapist. 

“Tony fucking pounded on my door in the middle of the night. I had to let him in before the neighbors called the cops,” she sighed and opened up her laptop, the bright glare of the screen annoying Stephen for no real reason. 

“You don’t have to let him in,” Bruce grinned.

“Oh, but I always do,” Pepper began typing away and Stephen became acutely aware he was standing in the middle of the dining room holding dirty dishes. He suddenly felt ill. After Tony left… he went to Pepper’s? He wouldn’t come inside, but he’d go barking up her tree at 2AM? 

Cringing, he dumped the dishes at the bussing station and made his way through the kitchen to the employee bathroom. He didn’t dare glance at the line, didn’t dare to make eye contact with Tony. He closed the bathroom door and let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. 

It shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t affect him what Tony did with his life but he felt so  _ foolish _ . He felt dirtier than the tissue he used to clean himself up after he came with Tony’s name on his lips. Maybe he was the unreasonable one here, maybe he was delusional. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. He felt used. He was just a transfer station for Tony’s lust and he couldn’t even talk to anyone about it. 

Someone knocked on the door and Stephen just washed his face in the sink. He left the bathroom with the best smile on his face he could muster. He just had to get through the next couple of hours, and then he could go home and drink the entire six pack of beer in his fridge. 

  
  
  
  


“You’re angry, I’m guessing,” Tony lit up, sitting on top of an overturned milk crate. Stephen walked to the other side of the alley. After Stephen served the last of his tables, Tony had asked - or commanded - him to go outside. The crew normally took smoke breaks in the alley way, but Stephen had never bothered to go because he didn’t smoke. Tony didn’t care, holding the door open as Stephen reluctantly marched to the opposite wall, keeping his distance. 

“What made you think that?” He folded his arms and leaned against the brick wall. He’d forgotten his skin was still tender from the night before. 

“The ticket with the note, ‘eat shit and die’, certainly gave me pause,” Tony remarked, maybe hoping for a laugh, but Stephen didn’t respond. Since he’d overheard Pepper and Bruce talking, he hadn’t been as subtle as he hoped and his anger took the form of angry notes in the modifications section. When Stephen didn’t answer, Tony exhaled deeply and looked him in the eye. “I don’t regret it. Do you?”

“No,” Stephen grumbled. He wasn’t in a great position to deny that he had fun. Of course he didn’t regret it, who wouldn’t want to jizz down Tony’s throat? Fuck. He couldn’t decide if he was angrier at Tony for using him or angrier at himself for letting him. 

“Great, so if we’re all consenting adults here, you can stop projecting your insecurities onto me,” Tony said, a cool indifference in his voice. Stephen could have slapped the cigarette right out of his mouth. 

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t have time to coddle your psyche, Strange. If you’re feeling that poorly about casual sex, maybe you should’ve said no,” Tony’s expression didn’t change. He always seemed to have a slight smirk on his face. He leaned backwards as Stephen inched towards him, taking menacingly slow steps, his neck craned as he studied Tony’s face. Unnerved, Tony asked, “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing,” Stephen’s nose was inches away from Tony’s, “Just wondering how that gigantic ego fits in that tiny head of yours.” 

Tony laughed.

“Look, I like you,” Tony’s face softened. “I think you’re funny and cute, maybe a bit irritating. But I  _ like _ you.”

Stephen didn’t know what to think or do. Was it inappropriate to laugh right back? 

“I know I'm a selfish dick, I don’t know what you heard about me,” Tony threw his cigarette in the near-full butt can at his feet. “And I know who I am. But I think it could be hot, y’know? You and me.” 

“Tony…” Stephen massaged his temples with his fingers. His ears couldn’t believe what he was hearing and his heart didn’t  _ want _ to believe any of it. Tony thought he was cute! Half of him wanted to pounce him right there in the alleyway, but the other half was sending warning bells straight to his cock.  _ He went to Pepper’s _ . He didn’t stay, he wants to just be friends. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” 

“Fine,” Tony shrugged, kicking the milk crate back against the wall. “I won’t bother you anymore.” 

“Fine,” Feeling the heat rise in his cheeks, Stephen opened the door to go back inside. 

Christine was right. He needed to forget about Tony, find someone else. 

He just needed to fuck somebody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Christine and Stephen are on the prowl. Will someone intervene??
> 
> Update this weekend. Leave a comment :)


	11. Fvck Somebody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen reflects on the past month, promising to push Tony out of his mind. Stephen and Christine search the town for hook ups.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _I wish you'd fuck somebody  
>  Steal my money  
> Break my heart  
> Say you never ever loved me  
> Could I be so lucky?  
> Let me off the hook  
> I really wish you would  
> I wish you'd fuck somebody  
> _  
> \- The Wrecks

“Where exactly is this bar?” Stephen asked, tying his shoes. 

“The far end of State street,” Christine finished putting in her earrings and threw her hair into a messy bun. “Carol works there a couple of days a week, said she could get us in without a cover charge.” 

“Excellent.” 

Ever since Stephen had decided to “just be friends” with Tony, Christine had decided to install herself as his wingman. They bar crawled on the weekends, scoping out potentials for the both of them. Stephen’s success rate was measly compared to hers, but he didn’t mind. Half the fun was just picking people out of a crowd and judging the hell out of them. 

“Who else is going?”

“I don’t know, actually,” she sat down next to him on the couch and checked her phone. “Wan had her fake ID taken away from her last week so I don’t think she’s going. Nat said she had a meeting with Pepper or something, so I don’t know.” 

Stephen was optimistic. He’d been working hard the last month, and he was thrilled when Christine mentioned an ‘80s dance party. It was exactly what he needed to let off some steam before Thanksgiving. He was hopping on a plane with Christine the next morning, and they’d both have to spend a week at home with their families. The least he could do was find a pretty stranger to flirt with, and maybe, as Rogers so eloquently put it, _get his dick wet_. 

* * *

After their conversation in the alleyway, he put on his big-boy pants and shoved down any remaining feelings. Tony was right, he wasn’t good for him. Stephen would only get his heart broken if he stuck around so they were better off as friends. The next few weeks would go by quickly, but a few moments stuck out in his mind. 

Every single day he worked, he received a specially-cooked meal, but sometimes, the kitchen got lazy and just made the entire staff meal vegetarian. Scott was the least happy about this. 

“Tony… where’s the meat?” Scott poked the tongs around the pan, searching. 

“In the walk-in, probably,” Tony sat at the end of the bar, preparing his notes for the menu readout.

“No, I mean… this is just vegetables and pasta.”

“It’s good for you, Scott. It’ll help you poop better,” Tony said dismissively. This was the second time Tony had made the staff meal entirely vegetarian, and Stephen couldn’t help but smile into his pasta while he overheard the conversation.   
“But I don’t want to poop better, I want meat,” Scott frowned, picking up and dropping the food, clacking the tongs loudly. 

“Stop being such a whiny baby and eat the free food,” Nat elbowed him, pushing him out of the way. Stephen wondered if Scott would ever find out the reason there wasn’t any meat was because of him. He listened to Tony go over the menu, his mind wandering. He was slightly hungover, as was becoming shockingly more commonplace, so he was surprised when Tony plopped himself down at his table. Trying to ignore it, he straightened up in his seat while Bruce began to go over the nightly cocktails.

“How’d the cock hunt go?” Tony said so quietly Stephen thought he was hearing things. 

“Sorry?”

“Christine said you’ve got a new thing going,” Tony smirked, when Stephen didn’t respond, he continued, “Doesn’t sound like it’s going too hot.”

“That’s funny, I don’t remember asking for your opinion,” Stephen said flatly. The only word he heard Bruce say was _curacao_ and he hoped he could look at Nat’s notes later. 

“I’m messing with you, Stephen,” Tony put his feet across the chair next to him and leant back, chewing a toothpick. “When are you going to get that?”

“How are you not getting - never mind. He was huge. Biggest I’ve ever seen," Stephen said sarcastically.

“Thatta boy,” Tony’s eyes wrinkled and he whacked Stephen’s shoulder with his notebook. “See? And you were so worried we wouldn’t be friends.” 

“I wasn’t worried.”

“You think you have such a good poker face,” Tony’s eyes raked over him, “but I see you, Strange.” 

A couple of weeks later, Stephen walked into work to discover Pepper having a heated discussion with Tony in the kitchen. It was impossible to not overhear - her shrill voice carried through the entire restaurant, even over Bruce blasting Belinda Carlisle in the front. 

“What’s going on?” He whispered to Wanda as he clocked in for his shift. 

“Mom and Dad are fighting, something about a missing bottle of whiskey,” Wanda peered through the circular window in the swinging doors. “I think Clint and Rhodey escaped through the back, but Sam might be stuck in the walk-in.” 

“Has it been going on for awhile?”

“I’m not sure, I only got here a few minutes before you.” 

Stephen had to admit they were passionate. He didn’t like confrontations himself, he couldn’t imagine yelling at someone for so long. It didn’t even sound like they could hear each other speak - for every word Pepper was yelling, Tony was screaming right back. A loud clatter resonated through the restaurant and Wanda poked her head up again to witness the aftermath. 

“She threw a saucepan at him!” She narrated excitedly, “Oh fuck, hope she doesn’t go for the knives…”

This was getting ridiculous. He knew Pepper and Bruce kept a rigid inventory because of Tony’s drinking problem, but disturbing the opening processes so they could duke it out in the kitchen was _not_ a great way to solve the issue. He had to do something. 

“What are you doing?” Wanda asked as Stephen pushed open the swinging doors. He could hear Wanda begging for him to come back, but he walked directly into the line of fire. 

“I can’t believe you’d have the fucking balls to steal from this restaurant, I’ve given you everything -” Pepper was saying, her face beet red from yelling. Tony was directly in her face, spittle flying as he talked over her. 

“Ha! You think you’re so fucking clever, where’s your _proof_ , Potts?” Tony recovered the saucepan from the far side of the range stove and placed it gently back where it belonged. “What are you going to do - _fire me_? The only thing you’ve given me is gonorrhea -”

“I did it,” Stephen cleared his throat loudly. Tony and Pepper whipped around, Tony’s face horrified, Pepper’s confused.

“You… gave him gonorrhea?”

“No,” Stephen said quickly, “I broke the bottle of whiskey. I didn’t think anything of it, I bumped into it while I was putting away the glasses. I guess I should have mentioned it to Bruce, but I didn’t think it was such a big deal.” 

“Yes, you should have,” Pepper stalked towards him, and he was beginning to regret intervening. “Next time, you better let me know.” 

She left the kitchen without taking a second glance at either man. Sam Wilson burst out of the walk-in as soon as he heard her leave.

“Fuck _me_ , it’s cold in there!” He ran over to the fryer and held his hands out like it was a campfire. “You couldn’t have cut in sooner, Strange? Fuck!” 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Ignoring Sam, Tony made eye contact with Stephen through the shelf of the expediting station. 

“You didn’t, either,” Stephen felt for him. He wasn’t about to judge someone for self-medicating, but he had to admit it was stupid to drink an _entire bottle_ of whiskey. He didn’t know if Tony drank it on shift, or simply took it home. He didn’t need to know. 

“Thanks.” 

Tony and his crew didn’t always hang out at the same spots Christine and Stephen did; they were so busy playing shows and they were the only ones who lived out of town. It was always a surprise when they showed up to house parties, especially when it was at Scott’s house, which was a dump. 

Scott lived in the same neighborhood as Stephen and Christine, but he shared a second-floor apartment with his roommates. The stairs leading up to the apartment were permanently slanted at an angle and Stephen always clutched to the railing like he was holding on for dear life. He and Christine had arrived after work, the others trickling in after the last call at the local bars. They were all crowded in the living room and even though it was a cold night in November, it was incredibly hot inside. 

“Didn’t think you were coming to this,” Stephen had walked out onto the crumbling porch to get a breath of fresh air. His coworkers were getting into a particularly aggressive game of strip poker and Stephen didn’t know how to play, and didn’t really feel like stripping off his clothing. He was self-conscious of his skinny body, and he just wasn’t that curious about his coworkers. 

“Why?” Tony was sitting on the railing, smoking a cigarette. He’d arrived late with his gang in tow, but something about his mood was off and he spent most of the night outside, alone. 

“I don’t know… thought you’d be at Pepper’s or something,” Stephen leaned against one of the porch pillars. Paint chipped onto his coat, but he brushed it off with his fingers. The place really was falling apart. 

“Oh… no. We’re on a break,” Tony offered him a drag of his cigarette but he refused. He always offered, and Stephen always refused.

“I’m sorry,” Stephen watched as he took a particularly long drag. A full minute passed before he exhaled.   
“Don’t be. I can’t stand me either.” 

Stephen was fine standing there in silence. He could hear the howls and screams of his coworkers inside, from the sounds of it someone had finally gotten naked. Their laughter echoed out into the empty streets. The mood was completely opposite outside on the porch - Tony was staring off into the distance. Stephen dug his hands further into his jeans, the cold finally getting to him. But he rarely had moments alone with Tony (by his own choice) so he asked a question that had been bothering him from the very beginning. 

“I know it’s none of my business… but your friends - they don’t know you like men, too?” Stephen waited with bated breath. Maybe Tony would ignore him, or brush him off with a derisive remark. But for some reason, Stephen thought Tony was in a pensive mood and maybe it was the right time to ask. 

“I don’t have a lot of friends-” Tony started, and Stephen let out a snort. He looked over apologetically and Tony waved him off with a slight grin before his face got serious again. “I just don’t… I don’t want to risk anything with them. They’re all I have.”

“Are they really your friends if they’d judge you like that?” Stephen posited. Tony didn’t answer so as an afterthought, he added, “And you’re gonna be a rockstar, right? Isn’t sexual ambiguity like super hot?” 

“Is it?”

“I guess,” Stephen shrugged, “Forbidden fruit always is.” 

They stood in silence for a few moments longer. The only thing Stephen could hear was the crickets in the night, and the gentle sound of Tony’s lips smacking as finished a drag on his cigarette. 

“My dad’s a really powerful guy,” Tony said suddenly. “Real rich, y’know. I got arrested my junior year in college for drunk driving, he made the whole thing disappear. He was really pissed. Took away my allowance. I know that sounds spoiled as all fuck but I was living off of that. So I got a job cooking and the rest is history.” 

Stephen didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure why Tony was opening up to him, why he was so morose. Maybe it was because the night was creeping to the early hours of the morning and they’d had too much to drink. 

“I’m sorry your dad’s a dick,” Stephen looked over and Tony was still staring at a fixed point off the porch. 

“He means well, I think. I try to look at it from his perspective - he paid for me to get an engineering degree, and I did - but I’d rather play music. I get access to my trust fund when I turn twenty-five, though, so I just have to kiss his ass until then.” 

“Sounds amazing.” 

“Sorry, I’m boring you,” Tony looked at him and a faint smile formed on his lips. “Just drunk and sad… thanks for listening,” 

“What else are friends for?”

Stephen left him on the porch, their eyes making contact briefly. He had to get back to the party before anyone started asking questions.

* * *

Stephen checked himself out in the mirror. He looked pretty hot. His curly hair was growing out from lack of attention, but Christine had given him some miraculous product and it finally didn’t look like the frizzy mess it usually was. His skin was clear, probably having the stress of submitting his medical school applications over with helped - but he was rather pleased. He threw on his favorite bomber jacket and he was ready to head to the bar. 

“Shots first,” Christine handed him the tiny glass. It was getting unbearably cold out, but they were stubborn. They only set aside enough money for the cab ride home, not the cab ride to the bar. It also prevented them from spending too much at the bar. At least, that’s what they told themselves. He gratefully took the shot with Christine, a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she threw her head back. “May we both get laid tonight so we don’t have to spend the next week jerking off in Nebraska.”

“I’m going to, anyway,” Stephen held his shot glass out for a refill and she obliged, the amber liquid splashing over his fingers as she poured. 

“Yeah, same,” She agreed. 

The walk was colder than they had expected and they walked almost ten blocks, clinging to each other, their teeth chattering the whole way. The Atomic Lounge was set in an adorable little building with a large built out patio, its color scheme neon purples, blues, and white. 

The line to the front door wound around the block but they saw Nat and Scott near the entrance and they waved them over. Nat and Christine hugged like they hadn’t just seen each other the night before. Scott rolled his eyes at the girls’ exuberant display of affection and took the moment to survey the crowd.

“Why do all the women have short hair cuts? Is it a trend?”

“ _Oh my god,_ Scott! It’s a lesbian bar!” Nat punched his shoulder.

“Oh,” Scott frowned, but then a realization dawned on him and he began to smile almost too widely. “ _Oh_.” 

“You guys ready to dance your pants off?” Nat turned to Stephen and Christine, ignoring Scott who was now leering at a gaggle of girls nearby. 

“One can only hope,” Christine giggled. She smacked Stephen in the chest and then pointed to a tall blonde man standing in the crowd, his head taller than the rest. “Blonde Beefcake over there - my team or yours?”

Stephen glanced over. The man had a wide chiseled face, curly hair wound tight to his head, and he was wearing a letterman jacket. Stephen wondered if he actually did play football (maybe a linebacker?) or if he was simply dressing up for eighties night. 

“My team, definitely,” Stephen smiled. Even if he wasn’t he wouldn’t mind trying to flirt with him. His mouth watered at the possibility of taking someone like him home. He just wanted a completely mindless fuck, no strings attached. He scanned the crowd: there were plenty of attractive boys, several of whom were possibly gay. It would take monumental effort to _not_ find someone to go home with.

  
  


As always, Fate was a cruel mistress. He didn’t know at that moment, but he _would_ be waking up in someone else’s bed - and it would be the last person he expected. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But I mean... You know who it is, because why else would you be here? 
> 
> Next chap: Stephen pieces together the night before while trying to catch his plane home. 
> 
> Ha. Leave a comment, update in the next two days :)


	12. Last Nite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen wakes up in a strange place. Then, he starts to remember the night before...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Oh, people, they don’t understand  
>  No, girlfriends, they don’t understand  
> In spaceships, they won’t understand  
> And me, I ain’t ever gonna understand  
> _  
> \- The Strokes

He woke with a start. Apart from the drool caked on the corner of his mouth, the first thing Stephen felt was… incredible softness. The silk count on the white sheets had to be at least 800, he felt like he was sleeping on a cloud. The weight of the down comforter felt perfect on his tired body and he stretched, jolting when his feet touched the calf of the man sleeping next to him. 

The comforter was draped over the man’s waist, exposing a smooth and muscular back. Stephen smiled at himself, he’d picked a good one. But there was something familiar about that mop of brown hair, the way it fell in all directions and still managed to look voluminous but not kitschy. Stephen propped himself carefully on his elbow to get a better look. 

It took approximately five seconds for Stephen’s brain to make the connection. His eyes scanned the curve of the man’s jawline, hints of a five o’clock shadow growing, long lashes closed over what Stephen knew to be gorgeous brown eyes. His mouth went completely dry and he could feel his heart rate increase. He was in Tony’s bed. Naked.

Fuck. His first instinct was to run - but he looked around the spacious bedroom and decided it would be difficult to track down his clothing. While the bed was the pinnacle of heaven, the rest of the room left a lot to be desired - beautiful hardwood floors were littered with several pieces of clothing, papers, and from what Stephen could see - actual trash. It was the total opposite of his own small but impeccably clean bedroom. On Tony’s walls, several band posters were hung haphazardly. A dart board was placed on the back of his bedroom door but even from the bed, Stephen could see several holes in the door from misfires. 

Tony rolled over. He was still blissfully asleep, but his arm had flopped over onto Stephen’s midsection, coming dangerously close to Stephen’s morning wood. _Don’t panic_. He searched for his phone, pleased to discover it was plugged into the wall behind the nightstand. Jesus. Who did that?

Scooting off the bed, careful not to wake Tony, he kicked through the clothing on the floor to find at least his pants and his shirt. His pants had been thrown clear across the room, his shirt in a wad near the door. He put them on as quietly as he could and peeked out into the hallway. There were four doors and then the stairwell which must have wound up to the third floor.

All the doors were closed except for one, and Stephen was relieved to see white tiling. It had to be the bathroom. He skipped out of Tony’s room and made a beeline for it. The door creaked as he closed it with a gentle _click_. 

Even though it was approaching noon, the entire house was quiet - faint snores leaking into the hallway. If Stephen played his cards right, he could escape before anyone else saw him. But he needed to pee, and he needed to text Christine. 

**STEPHEN** : Are you up? 

She didn’t respond immediately. Frustrated, he finished in the bathroom and crept back to Tony’s room. He needed to find the rest of his belongings and high tail it out of there. The worst part was he couldn’t exactly _recall_ how he’d gotten there, but maybe it was just a temporary fog as his body recovered. What the fuck happened last night? 

* * *

“SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS!” Christine hollered in his ear, forking over the shots of tequila Carol had just poured for them. He had already licked the top of his hand and poured salt on it, a slice of lime ready in his hand. Scott was still struggling to get salt out of the salt shaker when Christine and Nat pounded their shots. Stephen sputtered as the golden liquid slid down his throat, the much needed acidity from the lime leveling out the flavor in his mouth. 

“Should we get another before we dance?” Christine collected the empty glasses and put them back on the bar.

“Who are you, _Lil Jon_? We already drank before we got here,” Stephen could already feel the alcohol take effect. His face felt warmer and his body tingled. 

“Yes, but tonight is special,” Christine winked at him and he rolled his eyes. Tonight _was_ special, but it was their little secret and he forbade her to tell anyone why. Keeping secrets was terrible for Christine, but she did it every so often - usually under threat. He begged her to keep her mouth shut and so far, she’d done pretty okay. 

“Every night is special with you,” Stephen wrinkled his nose at her and she pretended to gag. 

“Fine, but I’m buying you a drink later,” she agreed. Taking his hand in hers, she dragged him out onto the dance floor. _Sweet Dreams are Made of These_ by Eurythmics was playing, he couldn’t _not_ dance.

  
  


They were sweaty and gross. The music was thumping in the club and it was so packed Stephen had a hard time finding his friends. Using some bizarre hand signals, he met up with Christine at the bar. She flagged down Carol and they waited to get served. 

“How’s Mr. Beefcake?” She asked, leaning an elbow on the bar.

“Terrible kisser,” Stephen admitted. It didn’t take long to track him down, and with one move he agreed to dance. “I kind of want to find a different one.” 

“Well, the night is young,” Christine sighed, then smiled as Carol approached. She ordered two shots of vodka. As Carol poured she continued, “And anyway, maybe he’s not too bad in the sack.” 

“True,” he said, but ‘ _not too bad’_ really wasn’t good enough for tonight. He wanted to get his mind blown. He wanted to have earth-shattering sex and then never see that person ever again, because he fucking _deserved it_. 

“Look what the cat dragged in!” Scott said loudly, making his way through the crowd. Sam Wilson popped out from behind, giving everyone a wave.

“Hey!” Christine gave him a big hug, “Thought you guys were partying uptown tonight.” 

“Change of plans,” Sam shrugged. “What are you guys drinking?” 

Stephen stepped away from the bar to let Sam order. If Sam was there, there was a very high likelihood his roommates were there, too… 

A man’s scream emitted from the middle of the dance floor and Stephen could just barely see where the crowd had parted. Bucky was flat on his back, a startled look on his face, and Nat was helping him up. Stephen walked towards them as Nat hooked his arm over her shoulder and walked him to the bar. 

“What the fuck was that?” Stephen asked, a bemused look on his face.

“Yes, _Nat_ , what the fuck was that?” Bucky glared at her, but she was still laughing. 

“I’m so sorry, so sorry Buck,” she barely managed through her tears, “I just… you came up behind me so suddenly, and -”

“And your first inclination is to _flip me over_?” Bucky yelled, and Stephen couldn’t help but laugh. He was really sorry he missed seeing it. Bucky grunted, “I’m glad you think it’s so funny, buy me a drink, Romanoff.” 

  
  


Stephen moved back out onto the dance floor. Mr. Blonde Beefcake found him again and by the time _Like a Prayer_ by Madonna was playing, Christine had brought him another shot and he wolfed it down. He had to hand the empty glass back to her because Mr. Beefcake was making moves, grabbing Stephen by the hips and grinding up on him. 

Fuck it. Maybe he didn’t want to bring Mr. Beefcake home, but there was no reason he couldn’t have a little fun while he was at the club. When Mr. Beefcake whispered into his ear, Stephen wordlessly followed him to the men’s bathroom. 

It was dark, dirty, and cramped. His shoes stuck to the floor as they pushed past warm bodies and there was a group of men not-so-subtly doing key bumps of cocaine near the sinks. Drunk Stephen considered asking them for a hit but Mr. Beefcake pushed him into an empty stall. 

“ _I want you,_ ” Mr. Beefcake growled into his ear, and Stephen outright giggled as he felt his pants being unzipped, sloppy lips on his neck, fumbling hands pulling out his semi-hard cock. Despite his dizzying condition, Stephen had the wits about him to ask if Sir Beefcake had a condom. He did not. 

“Hands only, sorry,” Stephen said, pushing Mr. Beefcake back slightly to examine him in a sliver of light. He really was a brute. Hulkish, really. Not quite his type. But he had a hard cock and Stephen’s pants were already undone, so he did the gentlemanly thing and undid Beefcake’s pants, too. 

It was all rather unimpressive, and he tried not to think too much about it while he jerked off a stranger in the bathroom stall. Beefcake’s rhythm was as uncoordinated as his kisses. Stephen tried to focus on his own completion, but the logistics of their tiny enclosure made it difficult. Mr. Beefcake’s hand felt slippery on Stephen’s cock and Stephen was struggling to keep a firm grip on Mr. Beefcake’s. He almost called it quits when he heard a familiar voice outside. 

“Want some, Tone?” Stephen heard Clint rustle a plastic bag. 

“No,” he heard Tony say. His voice was close, possibly standing right outside of the stall. Mr. Beefcake chose that moment to moan loudly and Stephen tried to stifle his mouth with his free hand. His ears pricked, trying to listen to what else they were saying. 

“What, you got plans later?” Clint snorted loudly, his keys jangling in his hand. “Ahh!”

“Yeah, kind of. Move, would ya? I gotta take a leak.” 

Mr. Beefcake also chose that moment to rip Stephen’s hand off of his mouth and moan even louder, his breath coming out in gasps as he ejaculated all over Stephen’s unwilling fingers. 

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Stephen swore, “God damn it.” 

Mr. Beefcake’s face contorted in confusion, and he doubled down, trying to make Stephen cum, too. But Stephen swatted his hands away, trying to tuck himself back into his jeans. When Mr. Beefcake tried to leave the stall, Stephen stopped him. He just needed Tony and Clint to leave the bathroom. He heard Tony walk over to the kitchen sink and wash his hands for what seemed like ages. When he heard the bathroom door close, he unlocked the bathroom stall. He was in the clear. After washing his hands thoroughly, he made his way back onto the dance floor, making a point to ignore the unsatisfactory Mr. Beefcake. 

  
  


He found Christine just in time to dance to their anthem, Whitney Houston’s _I Wanna Dance with Somebody_. They belted out the lyrics as they danced, feeling the heat of the night run through their veins. 

_Oh, I wanna dance with somebody_

_I wanna feel the heat with somebody_

_Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody_

_With somebody who loves me_

He’d always felt a particular fondness for this song. He felt it even stronger after his particularly embarrassing encounter in the bathroom, but the best part was that no one ever needed to know what exactly went down in that tiny stall. He was dancing with his best friend and he didn’t give a fuck about much else. 

_I need a man who'll take a chance_

_On a love that burns hot enough to last_

_So when the night falls_

_My lonely heart calls_

He took Christine’s hand in his and twirled her around like a ballerina dancer. She was still incredibly graceful considering all of the alcohol she’d imbibed. He didn’t care that he looked like a fucking idiot dancing next to her and he let loose. He was unapologetically himself, singing along with Whitney into the night. 

Christine went out to join Nat for a cigarette, and Stephen found himself waiting at the bar. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to drink next, so he played with his phone while he waited for Christine to return. 

“You’ve been a naughty boy,” Tony slid into the spot next to him, a sly grin on his face.

“Who’d you pay to have them tell you that?” Stephen responded, unfazed. He put his phone down to discover that Tony was eyeing him intently. 

“Oh, you think you’re so funny.”

“ _You_ think I’m funny,” Stephen corrected, recalling their conversation in the alleyway. 

“Maybe you should find somewhere more private than the men’s bathroom to get your jimmies off,” Tony shrugged and looked around aimlessly, trying to act lofty. 

“Are you suggesting the ladies bathroom instead, then?” Stephen said smartly, taking a sip from the water Carol had dropped off earlier. Tony smirked, realizing that Stephen had, in fact, finally learned when he was fucking with him. 

“How much did you have to drink?”

“Not enough.”

“Well let’s solve that, shall we? BARKEEP!” Tony hollered in a bad British accent, rapping his palm impatiently on the bar. Carol sauntered over, an unamused look on her face. 

“What do you want, idiot?”

“Two shots of jamo and a Goose Rocks pilsner,” Tony threw a fifty dollar bill down on the bar and Carol took it, her eyes still narrowed. 

“Fine,” she turned to walk away but Tony called out again. 

“Carol, that was just for me. Stephen?”

“Jameson and ginger, please,” Stephen said. Surprised, Tony raised his eyebrows. 

“Since when do you drink whiskey?”

“Since it’s my birthday,” Stephen had prided himself in being private, but the opportunity to shock Tony again was too good to pass up. Only Christine knew it was his twenty-second birthday. She bought him a bottle of bottom-shelf vodka and wrote him a nice card. 

“Holy _fuck_.”

Before Stephen could stop him, Tony had climbed on top of the bar. He could see Carol look over, see who it was, then shake her head while continuing to pour a drink. Tony cupped his hands around his mouth and began to yell. 

“ _HEY_! HEY EVERYONE!” The patrons nearby stopped to look at the idiot standing on the bar, but the party kept going for everyone else. Tony didn’t care. “I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW, IT’S MY FRIEND’S BIRTHDAY!”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Stephen tugged at Tony’s pant leg frantically. “Get down!” 

“RAISE A TOAST TO STEPHEN STRANGE, EVERYBODY!” 

To Stephen’s surprise, people cheered and raised a glass. Carol dropped off their drinks, two extra shots of Jameson included. 

“On the house,” she winked, “Happy Birthday, big guy.” 

When Tony had returned his feet to the floor, they took the shots together, a stupid grin plastered on Stephen’s face. 

“The fuck was that all about?” He asked, feeling his face turn bright red. 

“Admit it, you liked the attention,” Tony smiled, and then his face got more serious and he leaned in so close Stephen could feel his breath on his face. “I thought I could let it go, but I can’t.” 

“What?” Stephen tried to focus on Tony’s eyes but the last shot had made it difficult to stand without the support from the bar. 

“Don’t be dense. Aren’t you going to be a doctor? Jesus.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“My god, you’re going to cut people open one day. Stephen,” Tony grabbed him by his shoulders, planting himself squarely in front of Stephen’s face. “When I saw you dancing with that stupid frat boy tonight, I had to admit - I didn’t like it.” 

“So -”

“So don’t interrupt me, Strange. I’ve been denying myself since the day we met, but I want this," Tony was gently shaking him and Stephen was positive he was hearing things. “I want to be more than friends.” 

“But what about your friends?”

“Fuck ‘em, not literally,” Tony got incredibly close, his lips brushing Stephen’s as he spoke, “Because _I_ want to fuck you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weeeee
> 
> Next chap: Stephen remembers the REST of the night... well, parts of it. 
> 
> Leave a comment!


	13. You're So Damn Hot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _I saw you sliding out the bar.  
>  I saw you slipping out the back door, baby.  
> Don't even try and find a line this time, it's fine. Darling, you're still divine.  
> You don't love me at all, but don't think that it bothers me at all.  
> You're a bad-hearted boy-trap, babydoll, but you're...  
> You're so damn hot.  
> _  
> \- OK Go

Tony was awake. He was sprawled across the top of the comforter, naked as the day he was born. Absentmindedly scrolling through his phone, he didn’t notice when Stephen crept back into the room. Tony displayed himself like a Greek god - toned limbs poised perfectly, his thick cock nestled above the crook of his thigh and hip. Stephen tried to avert his gaze, keeping his eyes peeled for his underwear on the floor or maybe even his socks. 

“Hey,” Tony called out quietly, putting his phone aside. His voice was gravelly and thick with sleep, “You sleep okay?” 

“Yeah,” Stephen said awkwardly. He finally spotted his underpants. Shoving them in his back pocket, he shuffled towards the door. “Well, I should be going…”

“Get back here, Strange,” Tony sat up slightly. He beckoned Stephen with a wave of his hand, “Your flight doesn’t leave for a few hours, you have time.”

Stephen froze with his back to the bed. His anxiety was threatening to make him run out of there at full speed. He could probably start running home, it might take him a few hours but he’d be anywhere else. Maybe Christine could pick him up near the interstate.

“C’mon,” Tony said encouragingly, patting the bed. The tone of his voice made it seem like he was amused at Stephen’s predicament. “C’mon, Stephen. Take your clothes off.”

Perhaps it was because his erection was already threatening to leap out of his pants, but he wasn’t sure what made him step out of his jeans, fully aware Tony was watching him undress. Tony was practically purring when Stephen turned to face him again, his hand pumping his own cock slowly.

“God, where did you come from?” Tony bit his lip as Stephen crawled back onto the bed. “You’re fucking gorgeous.” 

It must have been a rhetorical question because Tony didn’t wait for a response before he attacked Stephen’s mouth. Stephen hesitated, but Tony wasn’t afraid to kiss him, his breath suddenly minty fresh. Stephen felt incredibly guilty about his own morning breath but Tony didn’t care, his tongue languidly sliding against Stephen’s in a breathy kiss.

“How’s your head?” Tony asked, his hand smoothly gripping Stephen’s erection. Stephen blinked, unable to think properly.

“Erm - which one?” 

“Orgasms can alleviate headaches,” Tony said cheekily, before swooping down and taking the head of Stephen’s cock between his lips. Stephen tried not to thrust his hips off the bed, lost in the sensation. Every feeling was intensified. He thought about the last time Tony had his mouth around his cock and this was a million times better. He was feeling incredibly sensitive - every touch felt electric, the pain in his limbs slowly ebbing away as Tony licked and sucked at his most private parts. 

_ God _ , those lips. It was so much better in the day time, Stephen didn’t want to stare too long at Tony’s cherry lips or he’d end things way too soon. Tony’s eyelashes fluttered as he worked his way down Stephen’s length, and it took all of Stephen’s might not to cum when he felt Tony’s nose tickling his pubic hair, his cock hitting the back of Tony’s throat. 

He let out a low groan as he realized Tony was taking control of his own pleasure, fisting his cock furiously as his other hand cupped Stephen’s balls. He ran his fingers through Tony’s hair, trying not to make him gag but Tony was already massaging his dick with his throat muscles and it was all becoming too much. 

Stephen had to look, he had to see this magic unfold. He wanted to watch Tony’s eyes as he drank his cum, watch his spunk drip out of his precious mouth. They made eye contact and one look into those endlessly dark eyes made Stephen lift off the bed, the force of his orgasm taking him by surprise. Tony moaned around his length and Stephen felt rope after rope of cum leave his body. 

When he could see straight, Tony’s lips popped off his softening cock and he stood on his knees over Stephen, pumping his own cock for all it was worth. His breath hitched as he came, watching Stephen with heavily lidded eyes and Stephen thought it just might be the most erotic thing he had ever seen. Leaning forward, Tony dragged a cum-covered finger across Stephen’s lips and without thinking, Stephen flicked his tongue out to lap up the salty sweetness. 

“Well, I’ve had my breakfast,” Tony said frankly, hopping off the bed. “You hungry? I’ll make you some eggs.” 

He gave him a quick peck on the lips and Stephen lay still in the bed, stunned. Stephen watched as Tony threw on a pair of sweats and left the room. 

Curiosity getting the best of him, he rolled across the bed, taking a peak at the trash can on Tony’s side. There were three, maybe four condoms tossed carelessly across the unlined bin. Fuck. How many times did they  _ go _ last night? How long were they awake?? He had to remember something. He wanted to scream and cry, elation and excitement beginning to override any other feelings. 

He couldn’t believe he’d been fucked by Tony Stark. 

Tony. Fucking. Stark. 

  
  
  
  


A few minutes later, he made his way down the stairs to the kitchen. Christine had finally texted him back, agreeing to pick him up. Tony was standing in front of the stovetop, humming to himself, a kitchen towel thrown over his shoulder. 

“What’s your address?” Stephen asked as casually as he could. 

“Trying to leave already?” Tony didn’t look over, his attention focused solely on what he was cooking in the pan. 

“I have to pack,” Stephen lied. He took a seat at the breakfast nook, scrolling through his texts from the previous night. Tony dryly gave him the address and he quickly sent it to Christine.

They must have stayed at the Atomic Lounge close to closing time. He’d sent Christine one cryptic text stating that he was leaving and she sent him a thumbs up response. If she didn’t feel safe getting home she definitely would have said something. He wondered if she managed to hook up with someone, too. 

Tony was chatting aimlessly, and Stephen tried to listen but his phone began to vibrate incessantly as Christine responded. 

WHY ARE YOU AT TONY’S

OMG

OMG

OMG

OM

G

I’M COMING RIGHT NOW DON’T MOVE 

YOU HAVE TO TELL ME EVERYTHING

WHAT THE FUCK

OMGMGMKLASDLK

He was glad Christine was freaking out, too, because he was struggling to keep his emotions under wraps. Tony brought over two plates with squares of bread, the egg fried in a perfect circle in the middle. 

“What, you’ve never seen ‘eggs in a basket’ before?” Tony grinned, taking a seat on the other side of the table. 

“No,” Stephen said, finding it hilarious this was the peak of a chef’s menu for breakfast. 

“This is fine dining, Strange,” Tony squirted a pile of ketchup onto his plate. “Unless you’d like to check out the other contents of our fridge, which I’m pretty sure is just a spoiled gallon of milk and some mayonnaise from last year.” 

“Christ,” Stephen muttered, but he had to admit the toast/egg mixture was still perfectly cooked, just like everything Tony did. They ate the rest of their meal in high spirits, Tony keeping the mood light and cheery, Stephen munching quietly on his food. He’d never felt such relief as when he heard Christine pull up in the driveway, honking her horn loud enough to wake the entire house. 

  
  
  


He told her as much as he cared to remember. She had found someone cute to go home with, made sure to kick him out as soon as he woke up. She’d had a lot of fun the night before but she was dying for details about Stephen’s evening in the house known as  _ The Tower _ . 

“Tony called it Stark Tower at first, but Rhodey shot that down because he already named the band after himself,” Christine explained on the way to the airport. “But yeah, they totally lucked out finding that beast of a house last year.” 

The house was completely square, reaching up to a peaked roof. It spanned three floors, had a basement the boys could use, but they had taken over the living room to be their makeshift studio. A couch had been placed in the dining room and Stephen figured they hardly sat down for a meal together anyway. It was kind of a dump, but not much was to be expected by renting a house to a bunch of college aged boys. 

His mind wandered as they left the downtown, and he had fleeting images of the night before. Tony’s hands were all over his body as they fell into the cab, their lips never leaving each other’s as they stumbled out of the club. They were making a total scene of themselves but they didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was getting back to Tony’s room. He smiled as he remembered the cab driver cranking up the volume of the music as he and Tony slid down in the backseat, disappearing from the rearview mirror. It didn’t take any imagination to figure out what they were doing. 

  
  


Finally seated on the plane, Christine rolled up her sweatshirt as a makeshift pillow and passed out before takeoff, her head blocking the view out the window. Stephen didn’t mind - he had his music to listen to, and a book to read if he didn’t fall asleep, too. 

He closed his eyes and he was pulled back to those first moments at Tony’s house. It was dark, they were too fucked up to turn on the lights, but Tony took his hand and dragged him up the stairs. As soon as they got to Tony’s room they ripped off each other’s clothing, not caring where articles went, desperate to feel each other’s warm skin.

He couldn’t see anything. All he did was feel, feel Tony’s body sliding against his, his hands wandering and grabbing and pulling. Every movement was frantic, urgent, and Stephen didn’t think he’d ever cried out so loudly as when he felt Tony teasing his rim, his fingers wet with lubrication. Though they were both painfully hard and ready to go, Tony took his time, warming up Stephen’s taut muscle and easing fingers in slowly. 

They could hear the other boys stumble up the stairs, loudly settling into their respective bedrooms. Stephen moaned when Tony’s fingers hit a certain spot and Tony tried to shush him, but it was no use. He heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper and Tony’s fingers disappeared, only to be replaced by something thicker, heavier. Stephen could remember the pressure of Tony pushing into him, the bulbous head stretching him more than he could bear to think about. He moved agonizingly slow, only spurred when Stephen curled his knees to his chest, begging him to move faster. 

Tony set a daunting pace and Stephen was lost in feeling, moaning wantonly into the darkness. Tony was whispering filthy things, taking his pleasure from Stephen as fast as he could. When Tony nipped at his ear, pleading, begging for him to come, Stephen let go. 

Fuck, he jizzed in his pants just thinking about it. He’d only been on the plane for forty minutes when he shuffled to the bathroom, hoping he wasn’t being painfully obvious. 

It was going to be a long week at home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol I couldn't wait to post.  
> Enjoy!  
> Leave a comment if you're feelin' like Christine :)


	14. La Di Da

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony isn't at work when Stephen gets back. Donna helps Stephen creep on Tony. Tony makes a declaration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _But you're gonna say something you don't mean  
>  So just before you take it too far  
> I'll hold my ears  
> Say la da da di da_  
> \- Lennon Stella

“How was your break?” Nat caught up to Stephen as he finally took a sip of water. His and Christine’s flight had gotten back in late the night before and even though the time difference wasn’t that much, he still felt like he wasn’t in the right time zone. Getting back into the rhythm of work was even more difficult, and he didn’t have the chance to catch up with anyone before service started. 

“Good,” he said. “Grandma said a biggoty thing at Thanksgiving dinner, my sister choked on her casserole. Same old shit. Yours?” 

“Amazing,” Nat grinned. “Mine wasn’t so colorful. Just cooked with Carol and her girlfriend.” 

“Sounds peaceful.” 

One of his tables began to flag him down and he left abruptly. He didn’t know what it was about today but he felt exhausted. The evening had barely started and already he felt swamped. The restaurant always slowed down around major holidays, as the town was mostly college students who left to go home - but half the staff left, too, so everyone was feeling a bit tired. 

“I need a check at table four,” Pepper called out, busting her way over to the server’s station. “Where the hell is Scott? His tables need water!” 

Stephen shrugged and made his way into the kitchen. Scott was incredibly hungover and was splitting his time between the employee bathroom and the alleyway, but Stephen had learned to never tell Pepper about these things. 

“Excellent timing, sweetcheeks,” Bucky put up a plate underneath the heat lamp. “Table twelve is up, table ten is working.” 

“Heard,” Stephen went to grab his plates but Bucky violently rapped his chef’s knife near Stephen’s hands.

“What do you say?”

“Um… thank you?” Stephen flinched as Bucky waved the knife again. 

“Thank you _what_?” 

“Thank you… sir?” He was utterly confused. “Can I please just take these, Buck? They’re assholes.” 

“Whatever,” Bucky rolled his eyes, letting out an annoyed sigh. “But don’t fucking complain about not getting a cool nickname. You never remember mine.” 

“Sir Bucks-A-Lot?” 

“You’re _welcome_ ,” Bucky gently pushed the plates forward and Stephen wasn’t any less confused. Whenever Tony wasn’t there, whoever took his place always took a giant ego trip. Hell, Tony always took a giant ego trip. The real question was, where _was_ Tony? 

Bucky usually only worked three days a week. He had a second gig as a part time mechanic and mostly covered Tony’s days off. But when Stephen checked out the schedule, Tony’s name had been blacked out. 

“Did Tony get fired?” He asked Nat the next time he saw her. She was refilling glasses of water at the bar and he waited to use the spigot. 

“Yeah, Pepper wishes,” The tray began to migrate across the counter on its own and she grabbed it quickly, preventing what would have been a really annoying mess. “Emergency meeting in the city. Some bullshit with his dad’s lawyers.” 

“Oh,” Stephen frowned. Maybe that’s why Tony never texted him over the break. “How long will he be gone?”

“Not sure,” Nat grabbed her tray and stepped aside to let Stephen pass. “Can you drop off my apps at table seven? I think I’m going to pee myself.” 

He agreed and she left the bar. He wasn’t angry that Tony didn’t text him, he was just surprised. Granted, they didn’t have each other’s numbers, but anyone’s number at the restaurant was up for grabs near the employee lockers. Underneath the weekly schedules, everyone’s numbers were listed strictly for shift-switching purposes. 

That’s not to say the numbers weren’t quickly abused. His first week, he got a bunch of random dick pictures (not of the same ones, but from the same three numbers) and he panicked before he realized they were from Clint, Rhodey, and Bucky. It seemed like a lot of effort. The pictures weren’t even of _their_ dicks, which Stephen wouldn’t have wanted either, but Christine assured him it was part of their hazing rituals. He added their numbers and promptly set them to ‘ignore’. 

But he never got Tony’s number, he never needed it…. until now. He didn’t even know what he would say, but he had a lot of time to think about it over break. 

Christine freaked the fuck out when he finally told her all of the details. He’d glossed over the filthier parts when she picked him up from the Tower, but they went to a bar at home and he felt more at ease telling her everything. She listened with such intensity and was able to recall certain details that made him wonder if she’d slept with Tony, too, but he was afraid to know the answer, so he didn’t ask. 

It would probably be easier to ask who _hadn’t_ slept with Tony, and Stephen definitely didn’t want to know which one of his coworkers had. At the very least, Tony had assured him he was clean. But how often did the man get tested? Weekly? Daily? Did Pepper really give him gonorrhea? Christ. 

* * *

He didn’t start to spiral until Christine asked what it had all meant. Tony said he wanted to be more than friends, but what did that even mean? Friends who occasionally put each other’s dicks in their mouths? Or… friends who started dating? He spent a night locked in his room with a bottle of vodka just ruminating on the possibilities. 

Donna had knocked on his door and found him in an embarrassing state. He was on the floor of his childhood bedroom, wearing only his underwear, empty beer bottles kicked under his bed and his laptop open to content not appropriate for his sister’s eyes. She laughed, locking the door behind her, and joined him on the floor. Taking the vodka bottle out of his hands, she took a swig and asked him what he was doing. She was pretty cool for a sixteen-year-old. 

“I’m trying to creep on someone but I can’t find them,” Stephen hiccuped, hand waving in the vague direction of his computer. “How is it even possible to not be on the internet?” 

“What’s their name?” She asked. Being the tech-wiz of the family, she could probably find anyone. Her fingers were poised on the keyboard, ready to search. 

“Tony Stark.”

He listened to the clicking noises the keys made as her fingers typed away. He’d checked all of the major social media websites, but he had to admit he’d typed in _Tony Stark_ and left disappointed. All he found was their band’s pages and it seemed like Sam was in charge of those. There were videos of their shows, behind the scenes rehearsals. Stephen downloaded their album, but felt like he was infringing on their privacy as he kept watching the videos. He was getting into creepy-obsessive territory, so he drank until he felt less weird about it. 

“ _Tony Stark_ like… son of Howard Stark of Stark Industries?” Donna pulled away from the laptop screen, a quizzical look on her face.  
“Probably,” he shrugged. “He said his dad was rich and powerful.” 

“Well, I’d say he qualifies… Stark Industries is the largest manufacturer of weapons and technology for the U.S. military,” her eyes scanned the screen, reading quickly. “He’s gotta be filthy rich.”

“His dad cut him off, but hypothetically, yeah.” 

“Jeez,” Donna was clicking several times in a row, and Stephen leant his head over to see the screen. “He’s cute. Why are we looking him up?” 

Just _cute_ ? _Cute_ ?? Stephen thought he was fucking beautiful, but he wasn’t about to relay that fact to his sister. Then again, she never got to stare into his gorgeous doe-eyes mid-coitus, so why the hell would she know? And admittedly, Tony _was_ cute. But his demeanor was sexy as hell. Stephen didn’t always pay attention to how people walked, but Tony’s gait suggested his legs were supporting a huge dick and Stephen was pleased to discover he wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t like, porn-star huge, but just big enough to make Stephen sweat when he thought about the fact it was _in his ass_. 

“Why are we looking him up?” Donna repeated. He gave her one look. “Oh. Well in that case, maybe Nana’s dreams will come true and one of us _will_ marry rich.”

He laughed at the hopefulness in her voice, and she cracked a smile. Their grandmother was a selfish old cunt but she was too addled to have any self awareness. She had asked outright when Stephen was going to find a nice girl and settle down, pop out some babies - and Donna choked right there at the table. Stephen sprung into action, grateful for the momentary distraction but also (of course) worried about his sister’s wellbeing. She was fine, and the conversation moved on like nothing had happened. Stephen was relieved when Thanksgiving was over and his dad dropped her back off at the nursing home. He didn’t have to listen to her constant barrage of senile insults. 

“He has a Facebook page he hasn’t logged into for a couple of years,” Donna turned the screen towards him. It had an incredibly old photo, a teenaged Tony making a funny face. The picture was so pixelated Stephen didn’t know why Tony had thought it was a good profile picture. Maybe that was the point. “Instagram, too, but he has a hundred followers and isn’t following anyone back.”

He didn’t have any posts, either. What the fuck was the point of signing up for social media if not to post? Then he remembered Tony’s DUI. He probably didn’t need to give his father any fuel. If he was really that rich and powerful, he could probably make Tony disappear at the snap of his fingers. 

They settled on pouring over the band’s photos and videos. Donna enjoyed the songs and began to see why Stephen thought Tony was so hot. Tony certainly had a way about him - girls always clambered to touch his feet while he was on stage, and occasionally he’d hold a gaze with one of them and then his eyes would flit away with cool indifference. It made them scream. He held their hearts in the palm of his hand and Stephen identified with the frenzied girls acutely. 

It wasn’t until Donna started talking about whatever was going on in her life that Stephen had a realization. He tried to listen to Donna, he really wanted to be a good big brother - but he was kind of drunk and his mind kept running back to a certain coworker at full speed. He relived his last night in town like it was a fucking religious experience and it took a few days for him to fully comprehend his fascination. Stephen had a mega fucking crush on Tony Stark. 

* * *

Tony showed back up at _Bella_ ’s three days later. He didn’t look like he’d slept at all and he responded to anything with a grunt or a groan. Even the kitchen crew seemed to sense something was up, and they kept the music on whatever station Tony liked. There wasn’t any bickering and the only words coming from their mouths were “order up”. 

Pepper seemed pretty pleased with the newfound quiet kitchen crew. Stephen swore she fed off of everyone’s misery like an energy-draining succubus. She whistled as she walked through the restaurant, happily tending to her duties like an executioner on execution day. 

“Could she _be_ any more annoying?” Clint broke the silence of the kitchen. Stephen was waiting near the dish sink, staring into space. 

“Let her have her moment, she’ll find something to be pissed about soon enough,” Tony said plainly. That was the most words he’d said all night. Stephen thought it was considerate that he still wanted Pepper to have peace even if she was being irritating. It was more than what Stephen hoped for her. Tony put up what Stephen thought was half his order and he stepped over to the expediting station. His eyes briefly met Tony’s. “Not yet, Strange. You’re so eager.” 

Tony said the last line without a hint of malice but Stephen felt _seen_. Was his nervousness palpable? He hadn’t really talked to Tony since he ran out of the Tower and now they were at work and things were weird, and did Tony just smile at him? His mind blanked out and he said the only thing that came to mind. 

“How was your break?”

Tony gave him a withering look and didn’t respond. Ok, so it wasn’t good, clearly. 

“Would you like to get a drink later?” Stephen pressed on. He could see Rhodey watching the two of them out of the corner of his eye, desperately curious. 

“Sure,” Tony said flatly. “Flanny’s?” 

“Sure,” Stephen agreed, trying to keep the squeal threatening to crawl up his throat out of his response. He rode that high til the end of his shift, and then he would meet Tony downtown at O’Flanagan’s. 

  
  


Stephen arrived well before Tony. Sitting at a corner booth, he chugged a beer while he waited. Do friends kiss when they greet each other? Oh wait, they were more than friends… did he stand up when Tony came to the bar? What the fuck was the protocol? He didn’t have to overthink things too much. He was too busy ripping the paper coaster to shreds to notice when Tony slid into the seat across from him, two shots of whiskey and a bottle of beer in his hand. At least he was consistent. 

He handed one shot to Stephen and they drank them quickly. Tony was watching him with an impassive face and Stephen was so worked up he was sure he was going to explode. 

“You look like a constipated puppy,” Tony observed, sipping his beer. Stephen let out a strangled laugh which made Tony look slightly alarmed. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Stephen winced, he was being so fucking weird right now. “I just… it’s good to see you, that’s all.”

 _That was pretty fucking gay, Stephen_. Internally he was suffocating from self loathing. Where was Maria? He needed about six more shots and maybe a Long Island Iced Tea to get himself out of this paralyzing hole of dread. 

“We’re good, right?” Tony narrowed his eyes, tilting his head slightly. “We can keep doing this?”

“Yeah,” Stephen agreed, attempting to stifle his so-called eagerness. He cleared his throat in an attempt to sound confident. 

“I mean we’re friends, I just… I’m leaving soon, you’re leaving soon. We should probably keep this casual,” Tony drained his beer. He spun the bottle aimlessly on the wooden table while he waited for a response.

“Of course,” Stephen swallowed the lump in his throat. His mouth was doing weird things of its own accord and he felt his face muscles twitch. Was he having a stroke? Shit. “That sounds great.”

And he was right, of course - Tony was going to leave to go on tour with his band and hopefully settle down somewhere else, Stephen was waiting to hear back from medical schools. They were going in completely different directions in a few short months so it would be silly to do anything serious. 

Tony wanted to keep things casual. How hard could that possibly be?

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment ;)


	15. Nights With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _I just wanna spend the nights with you  
>  Do it like your mother said not to do  
> Every time I hear the phone ring  
> I feel the same thing, I feel the same thing  
> I just wanna spend the nights with you  
> With you, with you, with you_  
> \- MØ

“Go fish.”

Maria had procured a deck of cards for them as they sat in the corner booth. It was the most worn deck Stephen had ever seen, and there were fifty-five cards instead of fifty-two, but they figured it wouldn’t hurt a game of ‘Go Fish’ anyway. Stephen turned off the part of his brain that wanted to be hyper aggressive and whoop Tony’s ass. Tony was not in the mood, and this mindless game was probably the only thing keeping him seated at the table. 

Tony eyed Stephen suspiciously as he drew a card. It was becoming clear that maybe no one would actually win this game. They’d yet to draw any of the royal cards and were more than halfway through the deck. 

“Got any Jacks?” 

Tony scanned his array of cards. “No.” 

“Maybe we should have played fifty-two pickup instead,” Stephen surmised.

“Somehow I don’t think Maria would be down for that,” Tony flopped his cards face down onto the sticky table. 

“I’ll just buy us another round. How about that?” Grabbing their empty glasses, Stephen got up from the booth. Maria had their drinks ready before Stephen even reached the bar.

The conversation had been stilted. Tony still hadn’t mentioned what exactly happened over break, and Stephen didn’t want to pry. Well, he did, but he didn’t want Tony to up and leave. Work had been long and exhausting, but Stephen was slowly feeling the stress of the day fade away. It was nice to decompress, no matter how mundane the activity, but he also wouldn’t mind doing something  _ else _ with Tony. 

“You missed a rousing game of trivia last night,” Stephen put their drinks down and scooted back into his seat. 

“Oh?” Tony gulped down a third of his beer. Maybe Stephen should have gotten him two. 

“Neck and neck with Rogers and some idiot from up the hill. Rogers got stuck in the category of top forty hits.”

Tony laughed, “Of course he did. He doesn’t listen to anyone who’s still alive.”

“Do you guys really hate each other?” 

There was a pregnant pause while Tony considered his question. Rogers and Tony were, for lack of a better term, strictly civil at work. The rest of the kitchen crew didn’t mind fucking with Rogers, and Rogers would accept any insults or flirtations with grace. But if a cutting comment came from Tony, things immediately got personal. Stephen would feel the urge to leave the room just because of how uncomfortable the banter had become. 

“‘Hate’ is a strong word,” Tony decided. He collected the cards off the table, shuffling them absentmindedly. “But I’ll tell you the most irritating thing about Rogers - no matter what it is, he is so insistent that he is  _ right _ that he leaves no room for the other possibility. I’ve never met someone so blindly stubborn. He’s insufferable.” 

Stephen quietly sipped his beer, letting the bubbles tickle his throat on the way down. Personally, he drew a lot of parallels between Rogers’ personality and Tony’s - but he’d sooner die than let Tony know that. 

“And it’s not always about being right,” Tony continued. “It’s about acting out your own truths.  _ To thine own self be true _ et cetera et cetera. He just comes across as the most insincere sack of shit and that bothers me.” 

“Mhmm,” Stephen had to admit he didn’t know either man very well, but he wondered if Tony had ever considered the things he found annoying about Rogers were actually reflections of himself. Tony was never short of jokes, always moving from one topic straight to another - when they were at work, insults rolled off of him like he was impenetrable. But there had to be a weakness in his armor, somewhere. 

“Wanna blow this joint?” Tony drained his pint. Stephen barely nodded as a response before Tony stood, grabbing his jacket. “Great. Your place or mine?” 

  
  


Their lips met as soon as Stephen closed his bedroom door. Stephen had played it cool on the walk home - Tony didn’t want to display public affection, fine, but he was also chain smoking. Christine was out, at the library probably, but Stephen didn’t want to chance her walking in on them and locked his door. 

“Too many clothes,” Tony muttered, shedding his t-shirt. He’d already gotten rid of his pants while Stephen worked on unbuttoning his work shirt delicately, to the point where Tony began unzipping Stephen’s pants while he stood. “For fuck’s sake.” 

Stephen whined when he felt Tony nuzzle his hardening cock through his cotton briefs. They’d barely gotten into the bedroom and already Tony was down to business. Stephen was glad he didn’t finish his last drink - he was tipsy, but most importantly, he’d remember every second of this. Tony’s fingers dragged Stephen’s briefs down and his mouth was on Stephen’s cock like it’d never left. 

He ran his fingers through Tony’s hair wondering how he’d gotten so lucky. Tony was insistent, insatiable - his hands kneading Stephen’s butt and thighs, exploring. He pushed Stephen back onto the bed, his eyes suddenly dark. 

Stephen took a moment to appreciate the vision before him. Tony was muscular, but not cut - a thin layer of fat covered his abdomen which Stephen only imagined could be attributed to a copious amount of beer. But it was endearing, and he licked his lips as his eyes were drawn more south. Tony had taken himself in his hand, his cock lengthening as they gazed into one another’s eyes. 

“You gonna keep staring at it or you gonna blow me?” Tony crawled onto the bed and flopped onto his back. Stephen claimed his mouth in a kiss and ran his hands over the expanse of Tony’s chest. Tony moaned into his mouth when Stephen grasped his length, his hand gripping the smooth skin. Tony was thick - Stephen’s could close his hand but only just - and that realization made his mouth water. “C’mon baby. Let me see those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.” 

Cheeky bastard.  _ Tony liked his lips _ ! He wanted to make things last a little longer. Planting kisses down Tony’s chest, he relished in Tony’s impatience. He one of Tony’s nipples into his mouth, tonguing to hardened pebbles. He could feel Tony wiggling beneath him and he grinned. He was doing this. He was making Tony squirm. 

He kissed his way down Tony’s abdomen, pausing to lavish his belly button, Tony’s cock brushing against his chest. He licked a trail from Tony’s adonis belt and when he reached the base of his cock, he inhaled deeply. He smelled so fucking good. 

Tony mewled while Stephen dragged the flat of his tongue along the bottom of his length. Stephen finally lapped at the head of Tony’s cock, his hand firmly grasping the base. The bitterness of Tony’s precum leaking onto his tongue only excited him and he gently suckled the head, stealing a glance at the head of the bed.

His eyes were closed, head thrown back onto Stephen’s pillow - his mouth was slack, breathing in slowly, and Stephen’s heart rate increased just watching the throbbing vein in Tony’s neck. The same rhythm was pulsing through Tony’s cock and a low moan rumbled from Tony’s mouth as Stephen worked his way towards the base. 

Tony propped his head up to look as Stephen set into a moderate pace. He didn’t say anything - just watched Stephen through lidded eyes, his breaths coming out in shallow gasps. Stephen saw him wince as his cock hit the back of Stephen’s throat, and he growled when Stephen swallowed him further. 

“I don’t want to come in your mouth,” A hand shot down quickly to Stephen’s shoulder and he felt Tony’s cock jump. He hummed, watching Tony’s resolve waver - but Tony pulled him up sharply and Stephen reluctantly removed his mouth from his cock. 

They resituated on the bed. Stephen lay on his back while Tony rifled around his bed stand for lube and protection. He still couldn’t believe that he was here, that he was with Tony and Tony  _ wanted him _ . 

Tony began kissing him, his hand shooting directly between Stephen’s parted legs to begin working open his puckered hole. He was as careful as Stephen remembered - paying close attention to what made Stephen moan, adding more fingers when Stephen was more than ready. Stephen opened his eyes to see Tony staring intently at him, biting his lip as Stephen writhed beneath him. 

“You’re beautiful,” Tony said in a low voice, and he claimed Stephen’s mouth again. “Sit on me?” 

Not exactly the most romantic words Stephen had ever heard, but he hastily agreed. He rolled Tony onto his back, lips meeting again, and positioned himself over Tony’s angry cock. He’d almost forgotten but Tony quickly rolled on a condom, and Stephen let gravity do its job. 

He felt Tony’s chest shudder as they made contact - the heat in his cheeks rose as he felt Tony’s head push past the tight ring of muscle. He sank down so slowly, lifting slightly to ease himself onto Tony’s length. The sweetest sounds were coming from Tony’s mouth, his eyes fixed on Stephen’s face. 

“Fuck,” Tony choked out as Stephen became completely seated. “So perfect.” 

Stephen felt so  _ full _ and he never wanted to leave. God damn it. He felt his own cock full and heavy, bouncing as he began to move. Tony began meeting him with a thrust of his hips and Stephen tried not to scream. They moved in tandem, picking up speed and suddenly Tony shifted, his cock getting deeper and brushing Stephen’s prostate. 

He was completely lost - his mind serenely blank, his only focus the feeling of Tony driving his cock into him from below. He was moaning continuously but he couldn’t care - Tony’s cock was driving him to higher places than he’d ever known and he could feel his pleasure cresting. He felt completely boneless, and Tony had enough and flipped them - throwing Stephen backwards on the bed without losing contact. 

Tony was over him, taking a second to reset their pace. Stephen felt every drag as he pulled out, the head of his cock just resting inside of Stephen’s rim. He pushed in faster, angling his cock at Stephen’s prostate with every thrust. 

Stephen felt tears in the corner of his eyes. The pleasure was too great, his orgasm was close but Tony kept pumping into him at a painfully metered pace. 

“Does that feel good, Strange?” Tony said breathlessly, his hips moving only slightly faster. 

“ _ God, yes _ ,” Stephen whispered. 

“Can you cum from just feeling my cock inside of you?” 

“I can cum just from hearing you talk,” Stephen said deliriously. 

“Interesting,” Tony thrusted deeply, “We’ll have to experiment with that one day.” 

Suddenly, they were off to the races. Stephen braced himself as Tony began fucking him earnestly. Tony’s cock was hitting him in all of the right spots, the wind getting knocked out of him with every thrust. He would definitely be feeling this tomorrow but he didn’t care - he was flying high, and he held on as long as he could but Tony’s rhythm stuttered, a strangled groan coming from his mouth and Stephen knew he was done for. He came with a shout, clenching tightly around Tony’s length and Tony pushed through it, an animalistic growl escaping his lips. 

“Fuck, Stephen!” Tony moaned, and even through the haze of his own orgasm, Stephen felt the throbbing of Tony’s cock and knew he was coming, his face flushed with ecstasy. Tony pumped a few more times before he collapsed on top of Stephen, completely out of breath. 

  
  


Stephen woke early the next morning to the sound of Tony putting his pants on, his belt clinking loudly in the quiet bedroom. He watched as Tony circled the room, scooping up his clothing and gathering his personal effects. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” Tony said as soon as he noticed. 

“Were you just going to leave like that?” Stephen asked, a fake pout on his face.

“No,” Tony said stubbornly. “I put my number in your phone.” 

Stephen grabbed his phone to take a look. Tony had added himself under the name,  _ You Know Who I Am _ . “Nice, subtle.” 

“I thought so,” Tony smirked, pulling on his jacket. “Gotta run. But uh… that was fun, we should do it again soon.” 

Stephen thought ‘ _ fun _ ’ wasn’t a generous enough term. Fucking amazing, maybe? Hot as hell? Spank bank material? 

“Absolutely.” 

Tony leaned over the bed and gave Stephen a searing kiss, drawing a moan from Stephen. He pawed at Tony’s jacket, thinking maybe… 

“Call ya later,” Tony winked at him and Stephen flopped back onto his bed in defeat. 

The doubts planted deep in his mind seemed far away. He smiled as he watched Tony leave the room, a sated warmth growing in his belly. Maybe he was wrong, maybe Tony  _ did _ want to be with him.

Maybe this could work. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering where this is going, this fic spans over a year and we've only gone from September and now it's early December. 
> 
> ahahah.
> 
> Leave a comment :)


	16. Jumpstarted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three secrets and one lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Off to the races, got my love jump started  
>  The only one I want is you  
> Oh, my poor soul  
> Starts flying like a cannonball  
> What goes up must come down  
> Take my advice and run while you still can  
> _  
> \- Jukebox the Ghost

“You look happy,” Christine plopped down next to him at the kitchen island. She poured herself a bowl of cereal and he handed her the milk. It was nearing noon but they’d both finally woken up. 

“Just had a good night, that’s all,” Stephen smiled as he lifted the spoon to his mouth. Tony had left just after sunrise, as he always did, and Stephen was thrilled at how often Tony was in his bed. They were both busy working nights and Tony occasionally had shows but still - Tony was with him more nights than not. 

For the past couple of weeks, he’d never explicitly told Christine who was coming over at night. She could probably hazard a guess, but she was busy wrapping up her semester. She spent long nights in the library or with her latest male attraction and frankly, the last time they’d talked about Tony she did nothing but express her concern. She knew Tony for a lot longer than Stephen did, and she just didn’t want to see Stephen get hurt. 

The rational part of his brain knew this. Tony had literally said he was, in his own words, “bad news bears”, but Stephen kept letting him come over anyway. He didn’t like going over to the Tower, there were way too many people. He knew Tony didn’t really tell anyone about them either, so as far as Stephen knew, this was just their dirty little secret. 

It felt good. They’d hit up bars after work, with or without coworkers, and then as the night dwindled to a close, Tony would walk Stephen home. They’d fall into Stephen’s bed, some nights hotter than others, and Tony would leave first thing in the morning. Wash, rinse, repeat. Tony always had to leave. Either he had to practice his guitar, or tune up his car, or run some miscellaneous errand. Tony never stayed past his welcome and it worked for them. 

“You’ll never guess who’s coming to town,” Christine ripped him out of his thoughts and she held out her phone for him to see. “Rubblebucket!!” 

“No shit,” He took her phone and began scrolling through the tour dates. The band would be in town just before they left for Christmas break. “That’s amazing! We need to go.”

“ _ I know _ ,” Christine said between mouthfuls of cereal. Rubblebucket meant a lot to the both of them. They’d started listening to them in high school, when they were feeling all moody and misunderstood. The uplifting art-pop indie beats made them feel just a little less alone, and they caught shows whenever they could. He made a mental note to buy tickets as soon as possible… but how many? Maybe Tony would want to go. As friends, of course. Stephen considered the idea, it didn’t have to be romantic or a date or anything like that. But it was good music and he was certain Tony would enjoy it. It couldn’t hurt to ask. Having finished her cereal, Christine hopped off the stool, taking Stephen’s empty bowl with her. “You workin’ tonight?” 

“Yeah, trivia after. Can you make it?” 

“No,” Christine pouted as she put their dishes in the sink. “Another late night in the library. My developmental biology class is kicking my ass.” 

“Your study buddy isn’t any help?” 

“ _ No _ ,” She narrowed her eyes, “And forget  _ my _ study buddy. Who the hell is traipsing to the bathroom at 5AM?” 

“No one you know,” Stephen said coyly. “Met him at trivia night. You’d meet him if you ever went.” 

“Yeah, well… maybe when finals are over,” Having finished their dishes, she dried her hands on a towel and looked around their tiny kitchen. “Guess I better get going… have fun tonight. Think of me while you drink your pitchers of beer.” 

“Will do.” 

He watched her leave the kitchen, her auburn hair flipping over her shoulders as she rounded the corner to the bathroom. She wouldn’t be home until the early morning, if at all. Tony could come over again, if he wanted! Perfect. 

  
  


No one won at trivia that night. Well, someone did - but it wasn’t anyone from Bella’s. Rogers stormed out after the announcement was made, Bucky bought a growler of beer. He chugged the entire thing immediately after it was poured, and then smashed it on the ground. He promptly was removed from the bar and the rest of the gang followed suit in solidarity. 

“I should probably get him home,” Rhodey frowned, watching as Bucky ran around the Commons screaming his head off. There was snow on the ground, but Bucky tore open his jacket and was flashing his chest at the unlucky passerby. A cop strolling by began to take notice and Rhodey ran off to collect his delinquent friend. “Great game, see you guys later!” 

“Christ,” Stephen shook his head, watching as Rhodey tackled Bucky across the road. “Is he a sore loser?”

“No,” Tony lit a cigarette as they began to walk down the block. “He just likes an excuse to drink a growler.” 

Stephen had fun. He played on Tony’s team and thought he did a pretty good job of keeping his newfound relationship with Tony on the down low. Nat kind of tilted her head at him when he laughed at one of Tony’s jokes (it was not funny) but other than that, he didn’t think he was being that suspicious. 

They walked slowly towards Stephen’s apartment, snow gently falling on their heads. Stephen loved this type of snow - it took hours to accumulate but the air wasn’t too cold, the wind was non-existent and in the morning, the town would look like a winter wonderland. 

“Favorite Britney song?” Stephen was quizzing Tony on their favorite pop singers. The theme at trivia had been music, and that just initiated their conversation on the walk home. They liked a lot of the same music, but had differing opinions on favorite songs. 

“ _ Gimme More _ ,” Tony shuffled his feet through the snow as they walked. “I don’t know why, I know there’s others. I just like the rhythm I guess.”

“Wow. I’m judging you right now.”

“Well what’s yours, hotshot?” Tony whapped Stephen on the arm. “ _ Oops _ ?”

“ _ Oops!...I Did it Again _ is a timeless banger and you can’t convince me otherwise,” Stephen said stubbornly. “I suppose you’ll tell me your favorite Madonna song is  _ Give it 2 Me _ or something.”

“Wrong. _Vogue_ is my favorite.”  
“Of course it is,” Stephen smiled, remembering all of the times Tony broke out into dance in the kitchen. He constantly framed his face with his hands like _Vogue_ was the only dance style he knew. For all Stephen knew, it just might be. 

“Surely we can agree on Whitney Houston,” Tony paused, “We’ll say our favorites at the same time.” 

Stephen said “ _ Higher Love _ ” but Tony said “ _ I Will Always Love You _ ” and Tony let out a frustrated groan. 

“You’re insane!  _ I Will Always Love You _ is like classic Whitney!” Tony was practically shouting at this point. 

“Written by Dolly Parton, mind you,” Stephen added, “And I fucking love Dolly. But  _ Higher Love _ is clearly a better display of her vocal ability.”

“So do you smoke crack often, or just when we’re talking about music?” Tony quipped. “Please God. What’s your favorite Mariah Carey song? And you’re not allowed to say anything else except the right answer.” 

Stephen narrowed his eyes. “ _ Always Be My Baby _ .” 

“Yes! Thank you!” Tony grabbed his head and pulled him in for a triumphant kiss, and Stephen laughed as Tony repeatedly pressed his lips to his. “I knew you were perfect.” 

Stephen wiped Tony’s saliva off with his sleeve as he pulled away. The cold was finally getting to him, but they were only a couple of blocks away from his apartment. He knew Tony was excitable, and he always said things that he didn’t necessarily mean. He couldn’t possibly think Stephen was perfect. They barely knew each other. 

“How did you do it?” Tony said suddenly.

“Do what?”

“You knew every single answer tonight. As soon as they introduced theme nights, you’ve gotten a million times better at trivia,” Tony glanced over at Stephen who suddenly hunched over, clearly uncomfortable as he shoved his hands into his coat pockets. 

“How do  _ you _ know I know? We didn’t win.”

“You have a tell,” Tony tapped the corner of his mouth like he was demonstrating, “The corner of your mouth twitches and your first instinct is to say, ‘I don’t know’. Then you throw out a few guesses, one of them the correct answer, and you wait for the group to decide. Why?” 

“I like hanging out with you guys,” Stephen stuttered. His cover had been blown and he couldn’t bear to think about losing another group of friends. “I don’t want to get kicked out…” 

“What are you talking about? Do you just sit at home and memorize Wikipedia?” When Stephen didn’t respond, Tony let out a loud  _ HA! _ , a grin spreading over his face. “Are you kidding me, Strange? You fucking dog. You have a photographic memory.” 

“Everyone does, I-” Stephen stuttered out, but Tony cut him off. 

“Just use it to cheat at trivia, I got it.”

Stephen was absolutely mortified. 

“Relax. Your secret is safe with me,” Tony had to kiss him to get the petrified look off of his face. Stephen was stiff, and Tony shook his shoulders a little. He pulled him into an embrace, whispering into his ear. “...But you’re definitely on my team for forever now.”

Stephen smiled at the thought.  _ Forever _ ?

“You’re sleeping over tonight, right?” He gazed into Tony’s eyes and the chef let out a laborious sigh. 

“If I must. For real though, I think I’ve forgotten what my bed feels like. This is the last night for a while,” Tony said seriously. 

“Sure, whatever you want,” Stephen said dismissively. He’d give Tony two days. Max. 

  
  


The sex was vigorous, as always, and Stephen had to admit a few days off would be good for his body. Tony was putting him through the wringer and he’d never felt so thoroughly fucked. He was beginning to deeply appreciate Tony’s hands - those magical hands that cooked delicious food, played amazing music on the guitar, and kneaded Stephen’s body so thoroughly he felt like he’d had a shiatsu massage. 

Shrouded in darkness, the boys lay in bed in an obstinate silence. They’d recovered slightly, having drunk water and relieved themselves. But Stephen knew Tony was still awake and he had to ask the one question that plagued his mind. What happened over Thanksgiving break?

“It was nothing,” Tony said, rolling onto his side. Stephen let him stew for a minute before he curled up behind him, planting kisses along Tony’s neck. Tony didn’t  _ like _ cuddling; claimed it made him too hot. But Stephen thought that was a ridiculous excuse to deny him human affection and cuddled up to him, wrapping his arm around Tony’s waist. “I’ll allow this, once.”

They lay in silence for a few moments longer, Tony wiggling slightly in Stephen’s arms. Figuring there was no way out, eventually his movements stilled and he let out a deep breath.

“My dad’s a dick, as you know,” Tony said quietly, and Stephen nuzzled his neck in response. “I didn’t go home for Thanksgiving dinner. A meeting was called by my dad’s lawyers and they stuck me in a stuffy room for hours, quizzing me. They wanted to know what I was up to, what my plans were, when I was going to come back and work for the company.”

“Why the hell do they care?” Stephen propped his head up with his hand, watching the top of Tony’s head as he spoke. A thin sliver of moonlight illuminated his back and Stephen traced his free hand along Tony’s shoulder. 

“It’s a big company. Or several companies. But my dad’s been talking about retirement and they need to know there’s someone next in line. There’s a lot at stake for the shareholders if the company suddenly plummets.”

“And… next in line is you?” Stephen said, confused. “Are you even qualified?”

“I lied, before…” Tony turned over onto his back. Stephen could barely make out the outline of Tony’s face, but he knew from the tone of his voice that he was serious. “I didn’t go to SUNY Fredonia. I went to MIT… when I was fifteen. I graduated with my masters in physics and engineering before my twenty-first birthday.” 

“Wait, so… you’re a fucking genius, and you want to be a poor artist instead?”

“Tortured artist,” Tony corrected, “And anyway, what were my choices? If I work for my dad, I’ll just be a corporate shill. I’d die. There’s no creativity. What would I even do - design the next atom bomb? They don’t need me, and I don’t need them.” 

“But if you don’t -”

“If I don’t come to an agreement that the lawyers like, my dad just said there would be consequences. I don’t know what that means. He already took away my allowance, what else could he possibly take from me?” Shivering, Tony pulled the comforter up to his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going on tour with my band this summer and that’s final. There’s nothing they can do to stop me.” 

Stephen was in awe of his steadfastness. He was all too familiar with having a dickish dad, but Tony was right - his commitment to the company held a lot of stakes. His dad was literally in control of his future and it sounded like Tony didn’t have a choice. But the world would be robbed if Tony didn’t get to be a successful musician. Moving Tony’s arm, he snuggled up to his chest.

“Stephen, I -” Tony protested. Stephen didn’t know if he was protesting the snuggles or not, but he adamantly planted his head underneath Tony’s neck. “No one knows about that stuff, except for Rhodey. You can’t tell anyone.”

“I know.”

“I’m serious. I’m grossly overqualified for kitchen jobs, I’d never work in this town again. I can’t start somewhere else, no one would hire me-”

“Tony, I got you. I won’t tell anyone,” Stephen said sincerely, placing his hand firmly on Tony’s chest. 

“But-”

“Shut up and go to sleep,” Stephen said, rubbing soothing circles on Tony’s stomach. Soon, he felt Tony relax, his breaths slowing, and Stephen fell asleep listening to the sounds of his heartbeat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment :) How we feelin'??


	17. Window

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's... well, he's Tony and Stephen breaks his phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _It's 3 A.M., I hope you're home  
>  I wanna be with you  
> Just let me in through the window  
> I had a dream we fell asleep  
> And woke up in ecstasy  
> What makes a dream come true?  
> You could write this love in stone  
> I'm not leaving you alone  
> _  
> \- MAGIC GIANT

“Long night?” Stephen asked. Tony was seated at the bar, his head in the crook of his elbow, his other hand clutching an empty ceramic mug. 

“Meh,” Tony grunted. The servers had just begun to arrive for the night and Stephen had already clocked in. From what he could see, the kitchen crew was acting rather sluggish. They must have been up all night partying. 

“I miss you,” Stephen said as quietly as he could. There was nothing suspicious about this conversation - he was polishing martini glasses for Bruce, and Tony was waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. Just a server and a cook sitting at the bar.

“Well, here I am,” Tony drawled. “You wanna suck me off?” 

“Why? So you could fall asleep before I finished?”

“Oh ha ha, that only happened  _ once _ ,” Tony lifted his head only for Nat to come around and push it back down, ruffling his hair. 

“What happened once?” She asked smartly. Having just arrived, she brushed the snow off of her coat before taking it off. “You look awfully cozy over here.”

“Victims of circumstance,” Stephen said nonchalantly. “Is your car fixed?”

“No,” Nat scowled, folding her coat so it would fit in the locker. “I had to walk like a total loser.” 

“You could have called and taken the bus with me,” Stephen offered. He’d walked to work while it was snowing once and after he slipped a few times on the icy hill, decided it was not an experience he’d like to repeat ever again. 

“I’m not going to take the  _ bus _ ,” Nat looked at him like he’d just asked her an extremely personal question. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“Yeah, what’s wrong with you?” Tony echoed, and Stephen just grabbed the rack of glasses and decided to do his side work elsewhere. 

There was a lot wrong with him, probably. For starters, Tony hadn’t slept with him in five days and Stephen already thought he was going to go insane. He felt silly. He couldn’t go  _ five days _ without Tony stuffing him with his cock and that just sounded even sillier out loud. 

It wasn’t for lack of trying. Stephen texted him, he’d had some modicum of success if Tony  _ knew  _ Stephen wanted him to come over. But for whatever reason Tony was incredibly busy this week, and based on the state in which the Tower residents showed up to work, they were too busy partying. 

_ That’s fine _ , Stephen told himself. Tony didn’t owe him anything, whether it be his time or his attention. But if Stephen were to be a little bit selfish, he just had to recognize that being with Tony felt really good, and he couldn’t help but chase that dopamine high. He was craving Tony’s touch, craving his kiss, and all he wanted at work was the tiniest acknowledgment that he  _ existed _ . 

Maybe he was being melodramatic. He set his mind to work-mode, focusing on finishing his tasks before the staff meeting. Tony sent out a personalized meal for Stephen because the staff meal was extraordinarily meat-heavy, but beyond that, Stephen felt Tony was avoiding his gaze during the menu readout. It was agonizing. 

He didn’t have long to sulk - within the first half hour of service his entire section had been seated. At one point, he and Rogers had to push their tables together to be able to seat a walk-in sixteen top. The kitchen flipped out when they learned the news. 

“ _ WHO DOES THAT ON A FRIDAY??” _ Clint hollered. Rogers was getting the guests situated with the menus and sent Stephen to alert the kitchen crew. 

“I think they’re all professors,” Stephen said, not sure if that would ease Clint’s mind or not. They must have all come from a conference as they all still had their name tags attached to their lapels. 

“I don’t care who it is, you fucking reserve that shit,” Clint was still grumbling when Tony came back into the kitchen from the alley way. 

“Strange, can I steal you for a sec? We need to talk,” Tony said, buttoning up his kitchen whites. The kitchen crew thought that was hilarious and ominous and a chorus of ‘ _ oohs _ ’ rang from behind the line. Tony shot that down quick. “Shut up. It’ll take two seconds.” 

If it wasn’t for the fact that every single person in the kitchen was staring at him, Stephen might not have followed Tony to the walk-in, the only place anyone could get any privacy. He couldn’t read Tony’s expression and he felt the rock in his stomach drop lower and lower as he crossed the threshold into the refrigerated room. 

As soon as Tony said the dreaded words,  _ we need to talk _ , Stephen felt the blood in his veins turn cold. He’d prepared himself for this moment, the moment when Tony would call their fleeting love affair off and Stephen would be left in the walk-in, sad and confused. 

The door latched closed. Stephen took a deep breath, readying himself for the inevitable but Tony crushed his lips against his as soon as he turned around. 

“What are you -” Stephen tried to say, but Tony was insistent. 

“I missed you, too,” Tony said, his hands scrambling at Stephen’s shirt buttons.

“Whoa, whoa - not at work!”

“Not even a quickie?” Tony pouted, and while Stephen thought he looked particularly adorable, he had to remind him that they just seated a sixteen top and Rogers would be expecting him back out on the floor any second. 

“What did you want to talk about?” Stephen ripped his shirt from Tony’s grasp. Undeterred, Tony planted kisses along Stephen’s neck instead. 

“I didn’t want to talk, I wanted to jump your bones.” 

“Well, mission accomplished I guess,” Stephen bristled, “But why haven’t you been texting me back?”

“Been busy,” Tony shrugged. He tried to grab Stephen’s face and bring him in for another kiss, but Stephen turned, slapping his hand away.

“Busy doing what? Killing your liver?”

“Sam’s getting us a deal with the radio station, but the dudes like to party,” Tony took a step forward, pushing Stephen into the shelf behind him. Stephen could feel Tony’s arousal through his jeans and it made him blush to think about how wildly inappropriate this all was. 

“You couldn’t… text… me back?” He said in between Tony’s kisses. 

They heard a female voice nearing the walk in and they pulled apart quickly - Tony resituating himself in his pants, Stephen finally fixing his shirt collar. The door opened slightly and they could hear Nat yelling something at Rhodey. It closed again and Stephen took his chance. 

“There’s a show at  _ The Haunt _ next Friday, it’d mean a lot to me if you came with me,” Stephen said simply. “Art-pop indie-rock. They’re brassy, I think you’d like them.”

“It’s a date,” Tony planted one last kiss on Stephen’s lips, smiling, and with a pat on Stephen’s cheek, he left the walk-in. He pushed past Nat who was still arguing, loudly. 

“Fuck off, Rhodey!” She yelled, stepping aside to let Tony go by. She was holding a crate, ready to grab some items for Bruce at the bar. Stephen tried to walk past her as quickly as Tony did but she stepped in front of him, a teasing smile on her lips. “I know what you did in there. No one comes out of the walk-in grinning like that.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” He said with the straightest face he could manage. She coughed,  _ “Bullshit _ !” as he walked by, but he couldn’t care. There were more pressing matters - Rogers was going to kill him if he didn’t get out to the dining room in the next thirty seconds and most importantly, Tony had said it was a  _ date _ . 

_ A date! _

  
  
  


The night of the show, Stephen was excited. He and Christine didn’t have to work that evening so they celebrated by going out to dinner downtown. It was a casual affair, they went to the cantina on the corner and ate tacos with their margaritas. Christine was finally done with her classes and they were ready to spend another week in Nebraska. 

They were one of the first ones at the venue. Stephen quickly went to the bar; Christine met some of her musician friends and Stephen didn’t want to be introduced to them for the umpteenth time. He never remembered their names because they all looked and sounded the same. Boring. 

He checked his phone while he waited for his drink order. Tony was still working, but he said he would come to the venue when he was done. Stephen debated sending a text message just to make sure he was coming. He had Tony’s ticket in his pocket, but he knew Tony would just call when he arrived. 

By the time the opening band left the stage, Stephen was pleasantly buzzed. Christine insisted that he socialize with her friends, and he reluctantly agreed. Tony would arrive sooner or later and save him, he was certain. 

But when Rubblebucket finally took the stage, he momentarily forgot his worries and he was immediately transported back to his bedroom when he was sixteen and discovered the band. He’d finally realized he liked boys and was feeling that first flutter of love, that all consuming crush. He listened to the lyrics like it was a religious mantra, and Christine sang along with him.

_ I used to wish I was never born _

_ But now I don't _

_ Cause I found you _

_ It’s really cool _

_ You like me too _

He’d finally found someone who liked  _ him _ . Being with Tony made him feel… butterflies? And not because he was almost always hungover in the morning. But he felt a serious thrill kissing that man and no one before had ever made him feel that way. 

_ Of all the places and all the times _

_ To walk the land _

_ I can't believe _

_ How could it be _

_ You're here with me _

Soon, Tony would join him on the dance floor and they’d dance the night away to Stephen’s favorite music. He didn’t care if they kissed or not or touched or not, he just wanted Tony to listen to the music that meant so much to him. He wanted to share this part of his life with Tony. 

_ You came out of a lady _

_ And I want you to save me it's amazing _

_ You came out of a lady oh _

_ And I want you to save me it's amazing _

Tony had missed the most popular song, probably, but Stephen knew some nights it took longer to close the kitchen than others. The servers almost always left before the kitchen crew, unless people sat way past closing time. He checked his phone again - the venue was a good thirty minutes away from  _ Bella _ ’s - if Tony left work in fifteen minutes he’d get there for half the show. 

**STEPHEN** : Where are you?

It took a few minutes, but Tony finally responded.

**TONY:** Got held up. Sorry. Be there as soon as I can. 

**STEPHEN** : I have your ticket.

**TONY** : k

Okay, so Tony was taking a little bit longer than anticipated. It didn’t mean he wasn’t coming. Stephen got himself another drink and went back to the dance floor to find Christine. She was sucking face with one of her musician friends, his name was Todd, maybe? So Stephen danced alone. 

**STEPHEN:** Are you on your way?

????

???????

He felt annoying before he even pressed ‘send’, but the concert was almost half over and he hadn’t heard a word from Tony. 

**TONY:** Can we reschedule for coffee in the morning? I don’t think I’m gonna get there

**STEPHEN** : Frankly I’d rather just see you tonight.

Stephen was  _ pissed _ . He’d been patient, he waited. He’d seen Tony sporadically outside of work and all he wanted was  _ one night _ , just one more night before he left for the week. He didn’t think that was asking for too much - he’d certainly kept his chill at work. Tony was the one accosting him in the walk-in, not the other way around. Getting another shot at the bar, he stormed out on the dance floor for one of his favorite songs. 

_ Charlie you can hide your thoughts, or tell me how you really feel _

_ Purple hands pass from reel to reel _

_ Pretend to play with your phone, but look me in the eyes so we're not alone _

_ I hear your voice, in every dial tone _

Tony responded almost twenty minutes later. 

**TONY:** Why don’t you just wait?

Stephen laughed bitterly, but no one knew and no one cared. He was lost in a sea of strangers. 

_ And I call you back _

_ And I call you back _

_ And I comb my hair _

_ As I wonder why _

_ Like a circuit bent _

_ In a foreign sky _

_ It's a foolish wish, _

_ Just one deep kiss _

Maybe it was because of the large amount of alcohol in his system, but he couldn’t help but send a snarky response. Tony had some fucking audacity to ask him to wait. Again. 

**STEPHEN:** Wait for what? Death? Waiting for you is like waiting for my Hogwarts letter. You know why? Because Hogwarts doesn’t exist, Tony.

He hit ‘send’ with a satisfied smirk. It kind of read like a rant and maybe Tony didn’t deserve his wrath, but he was feeling like he’d been led on. He didn’t know what Tony was even doing. Did he have any intention of coming to the show at all?

_ Don't know why our love is crazy _

_ Hearing voices, your wolves raised me _

_ 15 missed calls can you blame me _

_ Charlie, be real, do you love me? _

Stephen’s phone buzzed in his pocket and Tony had sent an infuriating response. 

**TONY:** Just believe.

Without thinking, he threw his phone to the ground with all of his might. It was quickly lost in a shuffle of dancing feet and only Christine noticed, bending down to pick up the broken shards. It was in pieces, just like his patience! Ha.  
  
“Whoa, Stephen - why!” She said, trying to be heard over the music. He ignored her and made a beeline to the bar again. She followed him, shoving the pieces of his phone into her purse. Maybe it could be salvaged. She caught up to him as he pounded another shot of whiskey, her face filled with worry. “Are you okay? Did something happen?” 

“Men suck,” He said sharply, and tapped the bar to ask the bartender for another. “Want one?”

“Um, I’m good… and I know men suck, sweetie, but you can’t just destroy your phone,” she rubbed his back and he wrestled himself away from her, knocking back another shot. He didn’t notice as she pulled out her phone and called the local cab company. It was time for him to go home. 

  
  


He woke to the cabbie shaking his shoe. He was stretched out across the backseat of the car and the cab driver had the door open, pulling at his leg. 

“Get out, man. You’re home. Your lady paid the fare just get the fuck out of my car,” The stout man said angrily, his breath visible in the freezing night air. He started to hit Stephen with his leather gloves and Stephen snapped out of it, climbing quickly out of the car. He tried to mutter his thanks but the cab drive just told him to fuck off and drove away. 

What a fucking night. It started out so optimistic and then he got so upset and drank too much, not even able to stay for the entire show. He was so disappointed in himself. He shuffled up the front stairs and unlocked the front door, his hands feeling frozen against the metal keys. 

The first thing he noticed was a sliver of light coming from his bedroom. Did he… did he leave his bedroom light on? He pushed open his bedroom door to see that his bed was already occupied. 

“Hey, I let myself in, hope you don’t mind.” 

Tony fucking Stark was in his bed, reading one of his books like it was the most natural thing on earth. 

“How did - how the fuck-?”

Tony jerked his thumb behind him, “Window. You should really lock those things, burglars can get in so easy.” 

“You fucking ass,” Stephen felt sick. Elated, overwhelmed, and quite possibly physically ill. Tony leapt off the bed with ease, his arm immediately wrapping around Stephen’s shoulder as he hunched over. 

“Whoa, let’s get you to the bathroom.” 

He led Stephen out of the bedroom and they shuffled down the hallway. 

“Why are you  _ here _ ?” Stephen managed between labored breaths. 

“I couldn’t let you leave without kissing you good-bye,” Tony said sweetly, and it might have been a romantic moment if Stephen didn’t unload the contents of his stomach onto the bathroom floor, exactly one foot away from the toilet. 

Cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Songs by Rubblebucket:**  
>  Came out of a Lady  
> Save Charlie
> 
> Leave a comment :)


	18. Chasin' Honey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Would it let you down if we don't grow up?  
>  Would it make you proud if we gave up?  
> What about anybody, they're all just chasing honey  
> But when I called you Monday  
> I needed you Sunday  
> I needed you honey  
> _  
> \- Wild Party

“And this, I mean I couldn’t miss this.”

Stephen could have killed him. Tony was rubbing his back while his body rejected the alcohol he’d drank earlier in the evening, and Stephen couldn’t think of a less-sexy scenario. Tony had already cleaned his vomit off the bathroom floor, and was ready with a glass of water in his free hand. It wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined their last night together before Christmas vacation, but at least Tony was there. 

When he stopped puking, he kicked Tony out of the bathroom so he could brush his teeth in silent shame. He felt alarmingly sober and the ache in his head told him he was on his way to recovery. What a nightmare. 

He walked back to his bedroom, stopping to refill his glass of water in the kitchen sink, and found Tony back in his bed, reading a manuscript. 

“What is this?” Tony held up the bound paper in one hand and Stephen wanted to puke again once he realized what it was. “It’s good.” 

“Give that to me,” He held his hand out impatiently, “Give that to me now.” 

“No!” Tony scooted on the far corner of the bed and flipped open to a page and began to read, dropping his voice and doing his best theatrical voice, “ _ ‘It's just these educated ladies, _ ’ _ The vicar said, no hint of sarcasm in his voice. ‘They get out and see the world, then they come back and have no idea what they want. That's why we should keep them home. Don't want to confuse them, the poor things’  _ \--”

“Please stop,” Stephen collapsed next to Tony on the bed, who, pulling the manuscript out of Stephen’s reach, began to read in a different voice, this time a high falsetto.

“ _ ‘My dear Basil, did you ever consider for one moment that maybe she just doesn't like you _ ?’  _ Dottie turned and draped her arm over the back of the settee, the sunset painting her skin in glorious shades of gold and red _ \--” Tony paused, flipping back to the previous page. “Red? Why would her skin be red? Is the sun made of flaming red hot Cheetos?” 

Stephen ignored the last comment and ripped the manuscript out of Tony’s hands while he was distracted. He stuffed it between his mattress and headboard and promptly placed his pillow over the entry, blocking Tony with his body. 

“Let me have it back! I was just getting to the good part,” Tony pouted, but Stephen wasn’t having any of that. “Please? You write so well.” 

In high school, Stephen had considered himself to be quite the writer. He’d written pages upon pages, novelettes, short stories, even a couple of full length novels. He didn’t know if they were any good, but he’d always enjoyed the process. Life had other plans for him and he put writing aside to prepare for a degree in pre-med. He’d actually forgotten he’d even brought them. 

“I’m going to sleep. If that’s not in your itinerary, please leave so I can rest,” Stephen pulled back the covers and settled into bed, his back towards Tony. He turned the light off on his night stand and waited. 

“Stephen.”

He felt Tony crawl towards him, his face hovering directly over Stephen’s ear. 

“Steeeephen.”

“ _ What _ ?” He snapped. He heard Tony’s lips curl into a smile and felt a gentle kiss on his cheek. 

“I’m sorry I missed the show. I wanted to go, but --” Tony didn’t say anything, so Stephen filled in the blanks in his mind. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” 

Stephen didn’t respond. He closed his eyes, willing himself to fall asleep, and he felt Tony settle beneath the comforter. Stephen doubted Tony would ever make it up to him. He’d believe it when he saw it. 

  
  


Tony was gone when Stephen woke. He would have gotten upset again if he didn’t see a full glass of water and a bottle of painkillers on his bed stand, with a note. 

_ Be right back. Keep your window unlocked _ . 

_ xoxo TS _

  
  
  


Stephen had just finished showering when he found Tony and Christine in the kitchen. Tying his bathrobe around his waist, he saw Tony at the island, Christine standing opposite of him sipping out of a white paper cup with red lettering on it. A box of pastries sat on the counter, open. Christine was mid-bite into a danish when she spotted Stephen exiting the bathroom.

“Hey!” She wiped her fingers on her pajama pants and ran over to him, lowering her voice. “When were you gonna tell me you were fucking Tony?” 

“I can hear you, you know,” Tony said dryly. He held out a coffee cup for Stephen. “Single origin, Ethiopia. I know you’re picky.” 

Christine tugged him toward the island and shoved a cinnamon roll in his mouth. 

“Soooo are you two exclusive?” She grinned. 

“Jesus, Christine…” Stephen sighed, putting the pastry on a napkin. He took the coffee from Tony and took a sip. It was at perfect drinking temperature and he tasted notes of stone fruit and caramel. He had to admit it was delicious. He decided to ignore Christine’s question, turning to Tony. “How’d you sleep?” 

“Like a baby,” Tony smiled and Stephen couldn’t help but lean in to kiss his plump lips. 

“Ugh you guys suck. When were you going to  _ tell me _ ?” 

“When were you going to tell me your best friend was a talented litterateur?” Tony asked Christine. 

“Which story did you read?” Christine leaned onto the kitchen island, a glimmer in her eye. Stephen contemplated double homicide while he watched them talk. Tony recited the title of the story perfectly, and Christine immediately got deep into her theories on the whodunnit mystery Stephen had written. Tony had, apparently, read the entire novella while Stephen was puking his brains out and he couldn’t have been more embarrassed. 

“I’m telling you, Stephen, you’re talented. The world doesn’t need more doctors, it needs more artists. You were born to create,” Tony winked at him and Stephen managed a weak smile. He was flattered Tony enjoyed his story so much but it truly wasn’t anything he could make a career out of. “And the benefits of being a writer  _ far _ outweigh those of being a doctor. You gotta think about quality of life, man. You really want to be stuck at some random hospital for sixteen hours a day, elbow deep in some carcass, or would you rather be writing on a beach somewhere?” 

At that moment, Stephen preferred to be anywhere that wasn’t that kitchen. Christine commanded Tony’s attention once more and Stephen was able to finish eating his breakfast, listening to his best friend and his lover chat about miscellaneous shit. It felt surreal. Tony was in his kitchen, and they didn’t even have sex the night before. This was the most g-rated visit he’d had thus far. 

When the pastries were picked over and the coffee long gone, Christine insisted that they start making moves to get to the airport. Tony offered to drive them and Christine was thrilled that she wouldn’t have to leave her car in the parking lot. Stephen was still feeling sensitive about the night before - Christine and Tony were certainly acting like nothing happened, but Stephen couldn’t let it go. He’d broken his phone, he drank too much, and Tony left him hanging. He tried to make it better with his version of snuggles (a foot hooked around Stephen’s leg) and a breakfast run in the morning, but Stephen was still disappointed. 

Christine went to check in, leaving Stephen and Tony standing outside of the terminal entrance. 

“Enjoy your time at home,” Tony said sincerely, his beautiful brown eyes boring into Stephen’s soul. Those fucking eyelashes were too much sometimes. “Don’t kill your grandma.” 

“Thanks, you too,” Stephen gave Tony a quick peck on the lips. “Thanks for the ride.” 

“I meant what I said, Strange,” Tony grabbed Stephen’s arm as he pulled away. “I’m going to make it up to you, ten-fold. Hundred-fold. Like, you’re mind’s gonna be fuckin blown.” 

Stephen doubted that, but he smiled anyway. “Looking forward to it.” 

* * *

  
  


Christmas came and went. Stephen spent most of his time with Donna -- they avoided their parents and their weird brother at all costs. Like a typical sixteen year old, she liked to go to the mall and see movies at the local cinema. They went ice skating, they went to the arcade, she sat patiently at a restaurant while Stephen drank his weight in beer. She even went with him to go buy a new phone.

When she asked about Tony, Stephen didn’t know what to say. They were seeing each other, definitely. But Tony was so.... strange, was a nice way to put it. When they were together Tony gave him his full attention. When they were apart, it was like Stephen didn’t exist. Tony was horrible at texting, even worse at returning phone calls. At work they were just coworkers, but at night they were fantastic lovers and everything was becoming very confusing. 

“Maybe you should have become better friends before you started fucking,” Donna offered while she drank a milkshake Stephen had bought for her. They were sitting in a car they borrowed from their parents, parked outside of a fifties style diner. 

“Yes, thank you -- I’ll be sure to do that when I turn back time and start over,” He rolled his eyes and she laughed. 

“I’m just  _ saying _ it sounds like you’re super emotionally tied but you’re like… lacking substance,” Sometimes she said things so wise Stephen didn’t think she could be six years younger than him. “You need to add some cream to that shake.”

“Oh, please never say that again.” He added ‘cream’ to the list of words he never wanted to hear his sister ever say. “And what do you know about  _ substance _ ?” 

“Nothing, I’ve just seen enough romantic comedies to know that the people who meet and fall in love in a couple of weeks are full of shit,” She shrugged, drinking the last of her milkshake through the straw. “Love takes time. Lust takes approximately five seconds.” 

Boy, did Stephen know that to be true. Taking her empty cup, he left the car to discard their trash in a nearby waste bin. He knew she was right - she always was. 

* * *

  
  
  


Tony made good on his word. He picked Stephen and Christine up from the airport and came back to the apartment after he went to work. Christine left to go catch up with her “study buddy” and Tony and Stephen found themselves alone in the apartment. 

“What should we listen to? Sinatra? Rosemary Clooney? Eartha Kitt?” Tony scrolled through his phone, having already paired to Stephen’s bluetooth speaker.

“For what?” Stephen was already naked on his bed, waiting for the night to begin. Tony still wore his briefs, his shirt still in his hand while he picked a station. 

“For the earth-shattering slow-fucking I’m going to give you, obviously,” Tony said, pretending to be irritated. “I want the mood to be right.” 

As important as music was to the both of them, they had never fucked to music. It felt weird to be relatively sober and for Tony to be extremely concerned about the  _ mood _ . Tony had even showered before he even kissed Stephen ‘hello’, and Stephen was feeling a bit confused about this new Tony. 

“How about something instrumental? I just think it’d be really bizarre to have your dick in me while listening to Eartha Kitt,” Stephen suggested, taking a swig out of the whiskey bottle Tony had generously brought along. He didn’t dare ask if he’d swiped it from  _ Bella _ ’s or not. 

“Fair point,” Tony said, and Stephen was relieved to hear some nondescript lo-fi music emit from the speakers. Happy with his choice, Tony danced over to the edge of the bed.

“You  _ really _ don’t have to do this, you redeemed yourself by picking us up at the airport,” Stephen was grinning from ear to ear. Tony was dancing to music with irregular rhythm and it was the most bizarre thing he’d ever seen. He knew Tony was still trying to make up for missing the concert, but Stephen was feeling a  _ lot _ more forgiving than he had that night and this was just straight up funny. 

“I’m gonna fuck that attitude right out of you, Strange,” Tony said, determined. He shimmied out of his boxer-briefs, his hips shaking like he was born to be a pole-dancer, and Stephen hid his face in his pillow to avoid making eye contact. “Soak it all in, babe! This is for you!” 

Tony hopped onto the bed and they made love, laughing and kissing until the sun came up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment :)


	19. Suckerpunch (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen makes a challenge Tony can't refuse. For a little bit, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _You ask me what I want  
>  I say it's not much  
> A break in monotony  
> A kick in the head, a new kind of rush  
> I want a love that steals my breath  
> Chokes me out, leaves me for dead  
> Like a sucker punch, sucker punch  
> _  
> \- Dead Emerson

It all started with a dildo. 

Stephen had misplaced his butt plug, the one he nicknamed “Ol’ Reliable”, and was desperate for a new one. In a continuing effort to make it up to Stephen, Tony had spent nearly every night with him since Stephen had gotten back. But Stephen wanted to spice things up a little, save some time, and maybe be ready for Tony at a moment’s notice.

On one of his precious days off, he walked downtown to the Commons. He didn’t have anything else to do that day, so he took his sweet time, meandering the streets and peering in the shop windows. 

“Hey!” He heard a familiar voice call out to him, and he turned to see Tony exiting the smoke shop a couple of doors away. “Stephen!” 

His first instinct was to try to hide. He dashed behind an ice sculpture of a bull (thanks to a town full of artists and a generous commissions board), but Tony shouted at him, practically chasing him down the street. 

“Hey, what the fuck?” Tony caught up to him. His nose was adorably red from the cold. “Why’d you run?” 

Stephen lied, making up some excuse about having to buy something for Christine but Tony saw right through him. 

“Uh huh. So you were just minding your own business, saw me, and then ran. Doesn’t make you sound guilty at all.” He thought Stephen’s bashfulness was adorable and alluring - he  _ had _ to know why Stephen wouldn’t tell him what he was doing in the Commons. 

When he told Tony what his  _ real _ errand was, Tony howled with laughter. It wasn’t that the errand itself was embarrassing, it was that Stephen was so shy about it. Tony thumped him on the back and marched him to the sex shop.

It was located in a basement retail space, its door only marked with their logo - male and female gender symbols intertwined. If Christine never showed him how funny the logo was he never would have noticed there was a sex shop in the Commons at all. 

Normally, if he had patience and was better at planning, Stephen would have ordered something online. But he didn’t want to bother waiting, and that’s how he found himself in an adult toy store with Tony Stark. 

“ _ Look _ at this,” Tony picked up the most perplexing phallus Stephen had ever seen. It was at least the length of his forearm, the entire thing ribbed with a circumference increasing in size. Tony grasped it by the flange, waving it around like a sword. 

“Please stop, Jesus Christ this is embarrassing,” Stephen blushed. The clerk at the counter looked up briefly, shaking his head when he saw Tony playing with the plastic toy. Stephen scanned the shelves, hoping to find the plug most similar to  _ Ol’ Reliable _ so he could leave as quickly as possible. The more he searched the funnier everything began to look. There were so many toys in different shapes and sizes, for men and for women, vibrators, dildoes, buttplugs, cock rings - and Tony was migrating towards the most outrageous dicks in the shop. 

“I think I’m in love,” Tony held up a hot-rod red dildo at  _ least _ twelve inches long. It was thicker than his wrist. He pressed a button on the bottom. “Look, it vibrates!”

“Put that back!” Stephen scolded. He grabbed the plainest looking plug and made to walk towards the counter, but Tony slapped him on the arm with the red phallus. 

“I’m buying this,” Tony grinned mischievously and Stephen tried very hard not to lose his temper. 

“No you’re not, put it back.” Stephen lunged to grab it out of Tony’s hands but Tony pulled back, and all of sudden they were straight up wrestling in the middle of the store. Finally having enough of their shenanigans, the clerk stood and yelled at them. 

“ _ Gentlemen _ , please - I can assist you with a purchase but if you’re not going to buy anything I need you to leave,” he crossed his arms and glared in their direction. Stephen marched over to the counter and put down the butt plug without saying a word, but Tony sidled up behind him, slamming the red dildo onto the glass counter. 

“My treat,” he winked at Stephen as he handed over his credit card. The clerk didn’t say a word. 

  
  


“I can’t believe you bought that,” Stephen said as they climbed the stairs to the street. “What the fuck are you planning on doing with it?” 

“Oh, I think you know,” Tony said slyly, slapping Stephen’s ass as he followed him up the stairs. 

“Mr. Stark, if you think for one minute you’re shoving that monstrosity into me, I can assure you that you’re dead wrong.” 

“Ooh, Mr.  _ Stark _ ? Sorry peanut, that’s my father.” Tony pushed past him to open the door. Stephen wanted to slap the cocky grin right off of his perfect face. 

“Tell you what, Tony,” Stephen said, lowering his voice as he turned to face the petulant chef, “You can fuck me with that thing when you tell all of your little friends about us.” 

“All of… about us?” Tony stuttered out. Stephen smiled, he’d finally gotten Tony to shut up. 

“Yes,” he gave Tony a quick peck on the lips. Tony was still frozen, his big brown eyes looking alarmed. He couldn’t even imagine how Tony would be able to tell Rhodey, Bucky, Clint, and Sam about their little tryst. Tony might have just spent forty dollars for no reason. That thought made Stephen smirk as he walked home, leaving Tony in the Commons with a very expensive sex toy. 

  
  


Stephen got a couple weeks of fun out of it. There were plenty of opportunities for Tony to tell the gang where he was night after night. The kitchen crew always swapped gritty, explicit stories about their nighttime “conquerings” and Stephen thought it peculiar that even though they lived with each other, they didn’t actually know what was going on in each other’s lives. 

He loved it when he walked into the kitchen at the most opportune times. Clint was regaling the crew with a detailed account of his encounter with a girl he met at  _ the Silky Cat _ and suddenly the attention was directed to Tony. 

“Where were you last night, Tone? I could have used a wingman,” Rhodey laughed, swatting Tony with his kitchen towel. 

“Yeah Tony,” Stephen chimed in, a knowing smile on his lips. “Where  _ were you _ last night?” 

He knew exactly where Tony was. Tony was in his bed, fucking him into the mattress until he saw stars. 

“Probably scored some college chick, am I right?” Clint held his hand up for a high five and Tony obliged, ignoring Stephen on the other side of the line. 

“That’s me, railing broads all night,” Tony said dryly, but no one noticed the sarcasm except for Stephen. “Order up!” 

Stephen took his plates and they made eye contact briefly. Tony narrowed his eyes, well aware of what Stephen was trying to do. He smiled, thanking Tony in a sing-song voice, and left the kitchen. He would get Tony to say it eventually. 

  
  
  


“I need a steak and a twelve inch rod for table two,” Stephen said. It was a few days later, and Tony was acting like he never bought the dildo in the first place. 

“Heard,” Tony said and then once he digested what Stephen had actually said, looked at him in panic. “What did you say?”

“I said I need a steak for table two.” Stephen said sweetly, and he couldn’t help but smile as Tony called out the order. Soon.

  
  
  


Stephen didn’t think it was annoying until Tony stopped texting him again. It’d been a few days where he only saw Tony at work and didn’t have any other communication with him. The kitchen crew was in the middle of a rousing round of dick jokes. In an unprecedented turn of events, Tony was the one getting roasted when Stephen walked into the kitchen.

“Hey Tone, what’s the difference between your jokes and your penis?” Sam called out from the dish pit. “Nobody laughs at your jokes.”

“Very funny. Haven’t had any complaints yet. Order up!” Tony tapped the bell. 

“Thanks for texting me back,” Stephen said in the lowest voice he could manage and still have Tony hear him. Tony casually plated Stephen’s order, placing one plate underneath the heat lamp.

“Why are you being passive aggressive, do you have a boner to pick with me or something?” Tony said loudly, and Clint actually guffawed. 

“Does your ass ever get jealous of the shit that comes out of your mouth?” Stephen shot back. Things were heating up in the kitchen -- Stephen could practically hear Tony thinking of a retort, but he doubled down. “It’s a joke, not a dick. Don’t take it so hard.”

Peals of laughter rang out in the room. Tony was glaring daggers at him, but the looks on the other cooks’ faces were completely priceless. Stephen knew he would pay for that comment later but he wasn’t expecting what happened next. 

“Hey Rhodeybear,” Tony said calmly, wiping his knife off on a towel. “Can Stephen come to our rehearsal tonight?”

“What?” Rhodey was wiping the tears out of his eyes with his forearm. He was still trying not to laugh when he responded. “No. Why? Rehearsals are private.” 

“So you’ll let Bucky and Clint have their groupies, but I can’t bring Stephen?”

“It’s  _ private _ ,” Rhodey repeated. 

“Even for fuck buddies?” 

“Uh… yeah,” He said, his voice dropping as the realization washed over the kitchen crew. Bucky and Clint began hopping up and down, howling like wolves. Sam sprayed the nozzle from the sink directly at the line and Clint, luckily, dived in front of the stream before any of it landed in the fryer. They were losing their  _ minds _ . Stephen could barely hear Rhodey speak over the noise. “I mean no, fuck buddies are fine…” 

“I’ll pick you up when I’m done here,” Tony looked at Stephen, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. He tapped his knife on the cutting board. “ _ Buddy _ . Hope you’re ready, you should probably bring  _ Ol’ Reliable _ .”

“What’s  _ Ol’ Reliable _ ?” Scott Lang entered the kitchen, a mountain of dirty dishes in his hands. 

“Nothing,” Stephen said quickly. He left, taking his plates from underneath the heat lamp. He felt Tony’s eyes following him as the doors swung shut. 

Victory at last.

  
  
  


Needless to say, Stephen stretched himself as soon as he got home. He didn’t know when Tony was going to be done closing the kitchen, he had maybe forty-minutes, max. After his shower he lay on his bed, mindlessly easing the lubricated plug into his body. He couldn’t believe two things -- Tony had told his friends, and Stephen was going to the Tower to get fucked. Royally. He’d never had anything that large in his body before, but he trusted Tony implicitly… at least when it came to sex. 

He was ready when Tony pulled up outside of his apartment and honked. He didn’t really notice the new  _ Ol’ Reliable _ until he sat down and felt the flange gently parting his cheeks. Tony greeted him with a searing kiss, leaning over the middle console. 

“You smell good,” Tony grinned. 

“Squeaky clean and as loose as your mom,” Stephen quipped, buckling himself in while Tony groaned at the bad joke. 

“I can’t promise anything,” Tony said eventually, referring to the rehearsal. “You’ll probably be bored out of your fucking mind but we have tons of beer.” 

“I’m sure I won’t be bored.” Stephen couldn’t think of anything sexier than watching Tony play his guitar for a couple of hours. More importantly, every time he moved he’d be able to feel the plug and he clenched around it just thinking about what Tony was going to be doing to him later. 

Stephen couldn't wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This became a mega chapter, hence the part 1.  
> Part 2 will be posted within the next couple of days :)
> 
> Leave a comment!


	20. Suckerpunch (Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> smutttttt

The rehearsal went by relatively quickly. After the boys got situated (drank a beer to decompress from their shift at work), they migrated to the living room. Stephen was amazed at the amount of instruments in there -- he hadn’t gotten a good look the morning he’d spent there. There were extra guitars, a couple of keyboards, some percussion instruments he didn’t know the name of and even some brass instruments hung haphazardly on the wall. 

“You play one, you play them all,” Tony said when he noticed Stephen staring. He tuned up his guitar and Stephen took a seat on the only dilapidated couch in the room. There were a few girls there, two of them proudly supporting Bucky. They sat on overturned milk crates and on one bean bag chair, which spilled its contents any time someone sat on it. 

Sam sat next to Stephen on the couch. Stephen saw a camera set up in the corner of the room, so he had to ask. 

“Do you record every rehearsal?” 

“Only the good ones,” Sam said. “It’s mostly to record new songs before we make a video for it, or for Tony’s midnight sessions.” 

“Midnight -?”

“It’s exactly what it sounds like. Tony wakes me up in the middle of the night and makes me record him as he writes another banger like the fucking Mozart that he is,” Sam sighed, probably thinking about all of the sleep he missed out on. “Worth it though. Those videos get the most likes on Instagram.”

Stephen leaned back comfortably, acutely aware of how he positioned himself on the couch. A lazy grin spread across his face as the rehearsal began. He heard some songs he’d heard before, and he was pleasantly brought back to the first night he heard Tony play. But his ears pricked when he heard a new tune and he couldn’t help but stare as his lover sang into the microphone. 

_ I've been trying to keep my grip, yeah I think I'm over this _

_ I can hear it now, oh no _

_ Yeah, my tongue, I'll let it slip, why'd I do those things I did? _

_ I can taste it now, oh no _

_ I'll try my best, how much do I invest? _

_ Like cardiac arrest, high voltage in your lips _

_ I'll try my best, how much do I invest? _

_ Like cardiac arrest, high voltage when we kiss _

  
  


Tony’s eyes flitted over to the couch and Stephen felt like he was on fire. Tony was basically eye fucking him and he couldn’t get over the fact that everyone in the room (minus the random girls he’d probably never see again) knew he was fucking Tony. Hell’s bells. Apart from the initial ruckus, there hadn’t been any mean homophobic comments. The dick jokes tripled, but that was to be expected. 

They played a few more songs before Stephen heard another one he’d never heard. He’d had a few beers at this point, but let his beer get warm. He didn’t want to drink too much more than Tony or he wouldn’t enjoy the rest of the evening. 

_ And after all this _

_ This love I borrowed _

_ I'm waiting on the day you don't want me tomorrow _

_ And I, I don't know why you love me _

_ I'm a danger to myself _

_ Oh I'm a mess _

_ And you can taste it _

_ When I'm getting tangled in your sheets _

Stephen could taste it alright. The excitement was boiling over in his veins and he wanted nothing more for the rehearsal to end so he could take Tony up those creaky stairs and… make him fuck him with that laughably macrophallic apparatus. 

Tony at least had the courtesy to let everyone know when they were down to their last song. He could probably see Stephen struggling with his boner on the couch, the same beer can perched delicately on his lap for the last half hour. 

“C’mon,” Tony nipped at his ear, pulling him off the couch as music began to thump over the speakers and his bandmates stepped away from their instruments. Beers were being opened, the girls started dancing, and Tony and Stephen escaped up the stairs before new party-goers arrived. 

  
  
  


They shared a bottle of whiskey while they undressed, passing the bottle rather unceremoniously between fevered kisses. 

“Do you think - do you think I should just pour this directly on my asshole?” Stephen asked, half laughing as he fell back on the bed. 

“I think you will be  _ just fine _ if you let me take care of you,” Tony took a particularly long swig, his eyes raking over Stephen’s lanky body. He crawled onto the bed, placing the bottle gently on the nightstand. Stephen couldn’t quite articulate how nervous he was feeling but when Tony was over him, pressing his body firmly into the mattress, Stephen melted into his kiss. 

He could feel Tony pressing his excitement into his leg. His hands were everywhere - clasping Stephen’s neck, dragging his fingertips along Stephen’s chest, cupping Stephen’s buttocks. Tony was as excited as he was but Stephen couldn’t get rid of that little seed of doubt. 

“Why today?” Stephen asked, pulling his lips reluctantly away from Tony’s. “We’ve had this deal for weeks, why did you wait until today?” 

“You didn’t piss me off until today.”

“So… this is a revenge dicking?” Stephen frowned, but Tony kissed him with reassurance.

“I’d like to think it’s the opposite.” Reaching over to his nightstand, Tony pulled out a small black bag. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” Stephen said, curious. 

“I’d like to try some things - if you don’t feel comfortable, just say the word and I’ll stop,” Tony reached into the small bag and pulled out several long strips of black silk. He tied one of Stephen’s wrists to the bedpost. “Too tight?”

“No, it’s perfect,” Stephen’s brow furrowed as Tony pulled his other arm towards the opposite bed post. When Stephen was secure, Tony took out one last piece of silk. 

“Like I said, if you feel uncomfortable I’ll stop,” He tied the last piece around Stephen’s head, and the dark fabric ensured that Stephen couldn’t see a thing. “...but I think you’re going to enjoy this.” 

“I didn’t know you were so kinky,” Stephen smiled, getting acclimated to the newfound darkness. He felt Tony crawling around the bed.

“Really? The humongous dildo wasn’t like… a giant red flag?”

Stephen was beginning to question if he was observant at all. It  _ was  _ a giant red flag, and Tony had beat him repeatedly with it in the sex shop. Stephen was fairly conservative when it came to sex and this -- this was territory he had never crossed into before. 

Tony began by slowly removing the plug. His fingers quickly replaced it and Stephen purred as Tony explored, his fingers scissoring in and out of his well-lubricated hole. 

“Wow, I bet I could fit my whole fist in here,” Tony marveled.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Stephen whipped his head up, pulling at his restraints. He heard Tony chuckle.

“Relax, relax,” Tony used his free hand to massage circles around Stephen’s pelvis. “I got you.”

Tony’s touch was soothing. Stephen willed his body to relax, focusing on his breaths and the gentle push of Tony’s fingers. Then Stephen felt it -- the rounded head pushing at his taut muscle and Tony asked him to breathe, and suddenly, it was in.

_ Fuck _ . It was big, really big. But Tony had prepared Stephen well, he didn’t feel burning or any discomfort besides an immense amount of pressure. Tony whispered words of encouragement, telling him how pretty he looked. One of Tony’s hands was caressing his cock, the other guiding the fake dick even further into Stephen’s body. 

He didn’t know how far it was in. All he knew was that he felt incredibly full and the only reason he hadn’t completely blown his load was that Tony’s hand disappeared. Tony had stopped moving the dildo and Stephen wondered what he was doing, but his question was quickly answered. 

He felt Tony climb over him, a condom quickly rolled over his own turgid shaft and then his cock was enveloped in the tightest heat imaginable.

“Holy fu--” The rest of the word dropped off his lips as Tony shifted and flicked the vibrator on. Stephen practically lifted off the bed, crying out in delirious pleasure, but Tony ignored him. He continued to work himself down Stephen’s length, moving at an immeasurably slow pace. The pleasure soaring through Stephen’s body increased ten fold and he felt Tony’s hands pinching at the base of his cock. 

“Please don’t cum yet,” Tony pleaded quietly. “I’m just getting started.” 

Stephen couldn’t even think of a response. A sharp pain in his chest reminded him to breathe and he tried, only to feel the wind knocked out of him moments later when Tony became fully seated. Tony untied one of Stephen’s hands and guided it to his own rigid cock. 

“You do this to me,” Tony said in an insanely low voice. He wrapped his hand around Stephen’s and pumped slowly. Stephen was in awe of the softness of his length against the roughness of his hands, those fucking magical hands. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

Stephen might have been whining, he couldn’t be sure because he was quickly losing control of all of his mental faculties. If anyone were to ask, nothing existed besides the pulsating piece of rubber in his ass and the throbbing heat wrapped around his cock. 

“You feel so fucking good, Stephen,” Tony moaned, and Stephen could only imagine how fucking hot he looked - his head thrown back, his eyes closed, his chest heaving as he fucked himself on Stephen’s cock. The darkness of the blindfold only spurred his imagination.

“Please, please Tony -- I want to see you,” Stephen begged, gripping Tony’s length unintentionally hard and he felt Tony’s muscles contract. “Fuck, please -- I  _ need _ to see you.”

“Not yet,” Tony rolled his hips and Stephen wailed, his cock moving in and out of Tony at an incredible angle and he felt  _ everything _ . He was sputtering nonsense, his words coming out garbled between strangled gasps of breath. His entire being was centered on Tony, and when Tony started to move the dildo in tandem with his motions, Stephen thought he was going to pass out. “Just a little more, baby, you can do it.” 

_ Could he _ ? He thought he was close to his breaking point seemingly forever ago. Tony rolled forward, shoving a pillow underneath Stephen’s hips -- and the new position pushed the vibrating toy directly against his prostate. He shouted into Tony’s mouth, and he felt Tony reach back and hold it in place. 

“Cum for me, Stephen.” 

He did not need telling twice. He felt Tony clench once and he was done for -- all of the tension in his extremities boiling to the surface and he couldn’t breathe. He felt it travel from the tips of his fingers, down his arms, up from the bottom of his stomach and finally he was spilling into his lover, his ass constricting painfully around the synthetic phallus. 

He was very loosely aware of Tony slipping off of his cock. His post orgasmic bliss was extended as he felt Tony remove the vibrating toy, slowly fucking him with it as he withdrew. When it was completely removed, Tony kept him propped up on the pillow.

“So beautiful,” Tony muttered, and he knew Tony was just studying him like a work of art. He felt Tony’s hands all over his ass, kneading, massaging, dipping fingers into his abused hole.

“Like a wind tunnel?” Stephen giggled to himself, giddy. But Tony didn’t respond. Instead, Stephen felt Tony’s tongue pushing its way inside his tired muscle, lapping at him like it was his last meal on earth. “Oh,  _ god _ …” 

Stephen added Tony’s tongue to the list of his appendages that were magical. He couldn’t get over the sensations, the filthy sounds Tony was making, the feeling of his breaths as he dove back in for more… 

“Can I fuck you?” Tony asked breathlessly. 

“You can do anything you want,” Stephen said lazily. His energy level was approximately that of a bowl of pudding. “I just want to see you.” 

Tony untied his other hand and removed the blindfold. He looked more gorgeous than Stephen could have imagined -- his cheeks were flushed, his eyes half-lidded, his lips plump from kissing and other ministrations. A thin sheen of sweat glistened across his chest and Stephen had the urge to lick him all over. His floppy hair was a mess, as per usual, which gave Stephen the perfect description for it: he always looked like he’d just been fucked silly. 

He sat back on his haunches, just looking at Stephen with his intense expression. Stephen really felt like he could get lost in those eyes forever. Tony stroked his own cock, his eyes never leaving Stephen’s as he rolled on a condom. 

It didn’t take very long. As soon as Tony entered him, his eyes closed and Stephen watched as Tony brought himself to orgasm. The man was  _ born _ to fuck. Stephen felt Tony’s moan vibrate through his body as he came, his movements stuttering as he came down from his high. 

Exhausted, Tony crawled up to Stephen’s side and collapsed halfway on his body, his jaw slack on Stephen’s chest. 

“Um, so that was adequate,” Stephen said jokingly, and Tony didn’t even have the energy to slap him.

“Lick my taint. That was fucking amazing.” 

Stephen pressed a kiss onto Tony’s sweaty forehead, and they fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Songs:**  
>  Cardiac Arrest by Bad Suns  
> Danger to Myself by The Unlikely Candidates
> 
> **Next chap:**  
>  Stephen was enjoying his morning coffee when Tony dropped the bomb.  
> “You _what_?”  
> “I told you, it’s no big deal --” Tony wandered around his bedroom looking for a clean pair of pants. “It’s just dinner.”  
> “Dinner with Pepper and her parents,” Stephen bristled. He’d asked Tony to hang out later and Tony said he was busy. Pressing further, he learned that this was exactly why Tony hadn’t seen him all week. He was hanging out with Pepper and her family. “Why the fuck? Why?”
> 
> Leave a comment :)


	21. Genghis Khan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen's jealous AF. Tony drops another zinger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _I know there's no form and no labels to put on  
>  To this thing we keep and dip into when we need  
> And I don't have the right to ask where you go at night  
> But the waves hit my head to think someone's in your bed  
> I get a little bit Genghis Khan  
> I don't want you to get it on  
> With nobody else but me  
> With nobody else but me_  
> \- Miike Snow

Stephen was enjoying his morning coffee when Tony dropped the bomb. 

“You  _ what _ ?” 

“I told you, it’s no big deal --” Tony wandered around his bedroom looking for a clean pair of pants. “It’s  _ just dinner _ .”

“Dinner with Pepper and her parents,” Stephen bristled. He’d asked Tony to hang out later and Tony said he was busy. Pressing further, he learned that this was exactly why Tony hadn’t seen him all week. He was hanging out with Pepper and her family. “Why the fuck? Why?”

“This is why I don’t tell you things, you always take it the wrong way,” Tony checked himself in the mirror. Stephen had left a nice-sized bite mark on his chest, but otherwise he’d come away from the evening unscathed. 

“And what exactly is the  _ right _ way to take that?” Stephen felt stupid already. He’d just had an amazing night with Tony, he really thought things were moving forward. And now…

“Stephen, I’m telling you. It’s just dinner. They come out twice a year and they like to see me,” Tony stalked over to the bed, trying to kiss Stephen but Stephen wiggled out of the way. 

“But you’re not dating anymore - or you weren’t dating ever - I just don’t understand.” 

“You don’t need to understand, you just have to accept it,” Tony pulled on a shirt. “You gonna hang around or should I call you a cab?” 

“Cab’s fine,” Stephen flopped back onto the bed, frustrated. Tony left the room. Stephen pulled a pillow over his face and screamed. 

They got into it again when Stephen finally dressed and met Tony downstairs. 

“I have to go, she’s my boss!” Tony was saying between taking bites of his toast.

_ And your ex-girlfriend _ , Stephen thought bitterly. “There are other people. Like why can’t she take Rogers? Aren’t they fuck buddies, too?”

Tony rolled his eyes at that. “Rogers is the server captain. If Pepper isn’t at work, he damn well better be. And before you say anything, Bruce is necessary, too. I’m the only one who is quite possibly  _ expendable _ and I’m not too bad on the eyes, either.” 

What a time to be cocky. 

“Does she know?” Stephen asked, his hand on his hip. He was sure Tony could finish that question --  _ does she know about us _ ?

“I don’t know,” Tony shrugged, “I’m not her keeper, Stephen.”

The cab couldn’t arrive any faster. Stephen was losing his mind. 

“Just stop… overthinking things, okay? I still care about you a great deal --” Tony reached out and Stephen flinched. If he  _ cared _ about Stephen so much, why did he go and do stupid shit like this? He could just say no. That’s all it would take. Tony took back his hand. “Fine. Be angry. But there’s nothing to worry about.” 

Stephen left the Tower in a significantly worse mood than when he had arrived. He felt his composure unravel as soon as he got into the cab, the intensity of the evening washing over him in waves. What the fuck had he gotten himself into? 

  
  


Tony wasn’t at work, and Pepper wasn’t either, obviously. Stephen hadn’t shaken off his bad mood and his coworkers could feel it radiating off his skin. He ignored the kitchen crew, walking in to hear them moaning whenever he picked up a plate. So yeah -- the entire Tower knew what it sounded like when he came, but he couldn’t be bothered to be angry at them when all of his anger was directed at Tony. 

It didn’t make any sense. What was the point? It’s not like Tony and Pepper were going to get married (or were they?) and this was all for show. But how far would they take it? Were they going to hold hands? Would he kiss her? Would she let him back into her apartment after dinner?

And what exactly had happened in the last week that made it so Tony couldn’t text him? Was he spending the other nights with Pepper? He didn’t even have anyone could ask -- no one at the Tower even knew Tony was fucking Stephen. 

Stephen felt like he was losing his grasp on reality. Were the last few months real, or were they all just some giant farce in Tony’s eyes? The way Tony looked at him sometimes… like when he was in bed, that had to be real. But earlier that morning, when Tony was so dismissive of Stephen’s feelings -- his gaze was cold, unmoving. He didn’t even try to convince Stephen that he was worrying about nothing. He just said not to worry and that was the end of that. 

It wasn’t up to Tony to dictate Stephen’s feelings. He was allowed to feel angry, upset, confused. Tony  _ owed _ him an explanation and the fact that he just brushed it off like no big deal, well… that just made Stephen feel like human garbage.

The unknowns were driving him crazy and it wasn’t until the end of the night that Bruce sent him home. He was making himself ill, his stomach was on fire and his hands felt clammy as he clocked out for the night. 

The walk home was brutal and lonely. He should have taken the bus but he just wanted the fucking punishment, he wanted to feel his calves burn as he carefully stepped down the ice-studded sidewalk. Maybe he’d fucking fall on his face and Tony would feel bad he wasn’t there to give him a ride home. 

That was a ridiculous thought. Tony didn’t owe him anything… except an explanation. 

  
  


Later that evening, having downed a considerable amount of vodka, Stephen checked his phone for text messages. Nothing. It was getting late. Maybe they had dinner around seven, maybe her parents were night owls. Or maybe they were fucking in Pepper’s apartment right now and Tony’s phone was in his pants pocket, kicked underneath Pepper’s bed. He didn’t want to think about it but his brain kept on going there, thinking of the worst-case scenario. He couldn’t help but think about what he heard when he first started working at  _ Bella _ ’s, the fucking moans coming from her office...

Would he make her cum as hard as he did Stephen? Would he look her in the eyes and tell her that she was beautiful, that she was perfect? Stephen was writhing with jealousy and it made him so angry that he cried. Tony should be with him, in his bed. It was eating him up inside thinking that Tony could be anywhere else.

  
  


* * *

The next day he called out of work. He knew he should have worn a better coat on his walk the other day -- he’d developed cold symptoms overnight and he didn’t even have the energy to bring himself to shower. He lazed around, hanging out in his bedroom until Christine left for work. She checked in on him, popped down to the local pharmacy to get him supplies. She was a champ but he didn’t feel like telling her about his current emotional turmoil. 

Feeling sorry for himself, Stephen sat on the couch, clicking through the channels on the television. The honeyed tea he was drinking barely helped his cough, and he was quickly moving through the box of tissues while his nose ran like a faucet. He got up to get another blanket when he heard a knock at his front door.   
“Hey,” Stephen opened the door to see Tony standing there -- his backpack slung over his shoulders, a brown paper bag in his hands. “Pepper said you were sick so I brought you some soup.” 

“Thanks,” Stephen took the bag, begrudgingly. Of course Pepper told him. They were like two peas in a pod, weren’t they? He began to close the door but Tony held his hand in the way.

“Hey, I  _ told _ you -- nothing happened between me and Pepper.”

Stephen eyed him suspiciously, keeping the door half closed. 

“Did you fuck her?” 

“ _ No _ , Christ. No.” Tony smiled and Stephen felt a tinge of anger. “Stephen, Jesus. She’s going to tell her parents I broke up with her so I don’t have to do this shit anymore.” 

“Do what shit? Why did you  _ have to _ go?”

“Pepper’s parents are hoity-toity pricks, alright? It’s just… if she doesn’t show up with someone on her arm, they think she’s going to die an old lonely maid.” 

“Doesn’t she have a master’s?” 

“Yeah, but that’s not the point --”

“I just don’t understand why it’s your problem at all,” Stephen said, his voice cracking. 

“ _ She gave me a job _ ,” Tony waved his hand in the air for emphasis. “I know you don’t  _ like _ that Pepper and I have a thing or whatever, but that’s not up to you! She helped me out when I needed it, I helped her. We’re a packaged deal.”

Stephen moved to close the door again but Tony stopped it with his hand. 

“I told her about us.” Tony inserted himself in the doorway, locking his gaze on Stephen. He was certain, unwavering. “She knows.”

“You… you told her?” Stephen was shell shocked. The last person he expected Tony to tell was Pepper. He practically risked his job to tell her that. He felt his anger start to dissipate, realizing Tony (didn’t text, but) was standing on his doorstep in the evening, giving him some goddamn soup.

“In less explicit terms than what I said to the boys, yes,” Tony huffed. “Now will you let me in? I’m gonna freeze my nuts off out here.”

Stephen stepped aside. He wasn’t really in the mood to entertain but Tony was already making himself comfortable on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table. Ditching the soup on the kitchen island, he shuffled back to the living area and sat next to Tony. If he was feeling better, he might be embarrassed that Tony caught him watching  _ Grey’s Anatomy _ . He turned down the volume but couldn’t be bothered to change the channel. Guilty pleasure.

Tony, quite unapologetically, took out one of Stephen’s old manuscripts from his backpack and began to read. Stephen groaned loudly when he realized what it was but Tony was completely nonplussed.

“You really ought to hide these better if you didn’t want me to read them,” Tony said. “I’m halfway through  _ Cryptoville Secrets _ and I gotta say, the bartender is starting to sound awfully suspicious.”

They sat in silence for a bit. It was like the last twenty four hours never happened. Tony had no idea the emotional whirlwind Stephen had experienced and god-willing, he never would. It was almost embarrassing to think about. Stephen was beginning to feel angry at  _ himself _ for getting so worked up about what was clearly nothing. He moved Tony’s arm, pushing the manuscript out of the way, so he could put his head on Tony’s lap. Tony didn’t mind. He casually propped the bound paper on the arm of the couch, dutifully reading while Stephen watched his sappy television show. Content and tired, Stephen let himself fall asleep.

When Tony finished reading, he threw the manuscript on the coffee table with a loud sigh, shaking Stephen out of his cold-medicine induced stupor. 

“Well?” Stephen said, still drowsy.

“It was fucking Margeurite, I should have known better,” Tony bristled. 

“Classic misdirection,” Stephen yawned, “It’s like you didn’t even notice you were reading a mystery novel.”

“It was so  _ good _ though,” Tony stretched his legs and Stephen moved to let him get up, but Tony patted his head back down onto his lap. He was fine. “Tell me… why do you want to be a doctor? And don’t you dare say ‘daddy issues’, because I’ve got that covered enough for the both of us.” 

After a moment, Stephen responded. “I was really close to my grandfather, my dad’s dad. He was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and it was just… the most horrible descent I ever witnessed. It’s a terrible disease. I’d like to make strides towards the discovery of a cure.”

“Wow. Bold of you.” 

“Do you doubt me?”

“Not at all,  _ Doctor _ ,” Tony pulled him closer, planting a kiss on the top of his head. “I just wonder what the world would be like if you continued to write your stories.” 

Stephen didn’t say anything. He didn’t understand how Tony could think writing a measly story could even compare to his potential contribution to science. 

“I just want you to be happy, y’know? You shouldn’t be stuck in some hospital in the middle of nowhere, working endless hours, never getting a minute to sort your shit out. You should be doing what  _ you _ want to do. Everyone deserves to follow their heart's desire.”

“Yes, I  _ desire _ to have a stable income and to have a solid education -”

“Really? Even if it’s like… killing yourself for years over thankless training?” 

“It’s what doctors are supposed to do, I’m not trying to be an exception here.”

“Look, we’re getting off track. I’m just trying to say that money isn’t everything.” 

“...says the kid with a nice, cushiony trust-fund waiting for him.” 

“Which I will use to  _ follow my dreams _ , not do what other people expect of me,” Tony said the last line with such derision Stephen didn’t think he recognized what kind of privilege he truly had. Stephen literally couldn’t afford to ‘follow his dream’ to become a writer - he had to go to medical school. He was already so invested, he just needed to get accepted somewhere, take out loans if he didn’t get the scholarships he applied for, and then he’d work for the rest of his life. It’s just what normal people did. 

But Tony wasn’t normal. Tony often acted larger than life and Stephen supposed that was what his exuberant upbringing brought him. What he lacked in interpersonal skills he more than made up for with his genius antics. Everything he touched turned to gold. Tony was blessed with being set financially for the rest of his life, but he would probably always struggle with relationships, because his parents set a terrible example. It was lonely at the top. 

Stephen thought about their relationship. It was fucking chaotic. It was hot, sometimes, and if the last few days were any evidence, it was incredibly frustrating. But it felt magnetic -- they kept coming back to one another. They were drawn by each other’s presence and it all felt inevitable. The tightly-wound coil around Tony’s heart was loosening and Stephen felt closer to him every single day. It was nothing short of terrifying. 

But the root of the problem was that life was pulling them in different directions. No matter how they felt about each other, they were going to be in different places. If the last few weeks had been any indication, Tony would be fucking terrible with long distance. He could barely deal with short-distance. But he was here, he was with Stephen. He came back. 

“If you weren’t going on tour and I wasn’t going to medical school… What do you think would happen to us? With us?” Stephen asked quietly. He felt Tony take a deep breath, his hand brushing Stephen’s shoulder. 

“Well… if you didn’t kill me first, I think we’d be together for a very long time.”

Stephen smiled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment :)


	22. Animal Spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Stephen dance around the 'L' word. (Not lesbians, the other one)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This is a true love story song  
>  A triumph and a glory song  
> With only one small caveat  
> This one hasn't happened yet_
> 
> _It's not the strongest narrative  
>  But details aren't imperative  
> What matters is the way it ends  
> _  
> \- Vulfpeck

Stephen slammed his laptop shut. He was seated at the kitchen island, checking his emails like he did most mornings. 

“Another one?” Christine said, even though she was in the middle of brushing her teeth. 

“Georgetown. Waitlisted,” Stephen sighed. He’d slowly been hearing back from schools he applied to, but it wasn’t off to a great start. He got rejected from Penn State earlier that week. “I didn’t even get an interview.”

“Well, at least you have  _ one _ interview to look forward to,” Christine hollered from the bathroom. “Where was that one again?” 

“Johns Hopkins.”

“That’s good!” He could hear Christine say. She kept talking, her voice muffled as she gargled and rinsed, but Stephen couldn’t bother to listen. She was endlessly optimistic but she’d already had three interviews with Ivy League schools. 

It was honestly making him miserable. The anticipation was killing him and it made his bi-monthly phone calls with his mother even worse. She checked in just to make sure he was alive and then she would drill him on the status of his applications. He considered not calling her anymore but knew that would piss her off even  _ more _ . 

He was beginning to dread the future. There was so much uncertainty -- he didn’t know if or when he would go to medical school, he didn’t know what city he’d be living in, he didn’t know if he’d make any friends. He’d have to start from scratch and that sounded exhausting.

Despite its geographical faults (five hours from anywhere), he loved living in this little town. He loved spending time with Christine, loved doing whatever the fuck he wanted. The pay, obviously, wasn’t great, but he got enough to get by. Sometimes when he was snuggled up to Tony’s warm body at night he let his mind wander, entertaining the possibilities. 

He wanted to stay where he was forever, sometimes. As shitty as it was being twenty-two, he was having fun for the first time in his life. It didn’t matter when he woke up. It didn’t matter what he did the night before. It didn’t matter that he was in a volatile “relationship” with a man who was a total commitment-phobe because in a few short months, neither of them would be in town anymore. 

  
  


Tony had read all of his novels, his screenplays, his short stories. It took him almost no time at all and Stephen thought it was cute he was disappointed when he didn’t have anything new to read. 

“C’mon, write something new,” Tony urged one day over a late night snack. They were eating nachos in Stephen’s kitchen after a night out at the bars. 

“I’m not inspired,” Stephen said stubbornly, shoving a molten chip into his mouth. “I haven’t written since I was a teenager.”

“And yet, you still carry them around. You’re clinging onto something,” Tony noted. “And what do you mean  _ not inspired _ ? You’re in the artsiest fucking town in Central New York. If you’re not inspired you’ve got your dick in the sand.”

“That’s not the saying. It’s ‘head in the sand’,” Stephen corrected.

“Same thing,” Tony shrugged, dragging a tortilla chip through the guacamole he’d made. Even after six beers, he was more than capable of whipping up something delicious. “I mean, you’ve got prime material you could write about right here.”

After Stephen gave him a quizzical look, he clarified, “Us. You could write about us.” 

“Ah, yes.  _ Narcissistic musician seduces poor medical student in gap year, fuck silly, happily ever after _ ,” Stephen mused. “Should win a Pulitzer.”

“Ok first off, it’s  _ adorable _ that you think _ I  _ seduced  _ you _ — and secondly, happy endings never win Pulitzers. People like grief.” 

“I disagree,” Stephen said, “I like my endings to be aloof, let the reader decide what happens. If you give the characters a definite ending, happy or sad, where is the allure? Isn’t part of the magic not knowing what happens? It’s about the journey, not the destination.” 

“I don’t know, man…” Tony sighed heavily, their plate of nachos quickly dwindling. “Shit’s not real. My ending would just be like… ‘ _ oh.  _ That sucks’.”

“And maybe that’s why you don’t write,” Stephen grinned. 

“Touché.” 

“So what do you think?” Stephen walked around the counter and pulled Tony into an embrace. “You and me? Happy ending?”

“I’d say the odds are pretty good,” Tony’s eyes twinkled as he spoke and Stephen felt like he was melting on the spot. “Can you write me taller, though? Just like… a couple of inches taller than you?” 

“Please, I couldn’t  _ lie _ .”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yes, but you love me,” Stephen said, willing Tony to say otherwise. He brought Tony’s lip to his in a searing kiss, the pair wobbling dangerously against the kitchen stool. 

“I love…” Tony said slowly, dragging his finger along Stephen’s bottom lip, “Fucking you. Can we go to bed before I fall asleep on this stool?” 

Stephen rolled his eyes, slapping Tony’s chest. “Yes,  _ fine _ , grandpa.” 

“I have to be up early!” Tony pouted as Stephen cleared their plates. “Rhodey’s on some kind of warpath and wants to practice  _ before _ work.” 

“I don’t think having to be up before 11AM qualifies as ‘early’.” 

“Whatever. You love me.” Tony threw the statement back and Stephen could feel the heat rise in his cheeks. He placed their dishes delicately in the sink, making a mental note to wash them before he left for work. Tony was toying with him. He always said things to make Stephen deliberately uncomfortable and while Stephen knew he had thrown the first punch, it felt different coming out Tony’s mouth. 

“I… I need to brush my teeth,” Stephen said finally, and with a clap of his hands, Tony hopped off the kitchen stool. 

“Perfect.” He wandered over to the sink, planting a kiss on Stephen’s neck, and spanked his buttcheek. “See you in there.” 

Stephen watched Tony saunter off to his bedroom, removing his shirt with a gentle sway of his hips. Fuck. Stephen was in this thing, deep. 

  
  


He and Christine were finishing up at work. She left Stephen at the lockers to go warm up the car when Tony wandered over, pushing Stephen’s locker shut. 

“You’re not actually planning on going with Miss Palmer, are you?” He asked, a slight hint of accusal in his voice. They were just talking about going to a new bar after work on Friday.

“Yeah, I was,” Stephen said. He was slightly irritated but Tony’s sudden interest had him intrigued. “Why? Did you have plans?” 

“ _ No _ , I just thought you’d want to hang out with me,” Tony sniffed, crossing his arms as he leant against the lockers. He didn’t look Stephen in the eye, acting cool as a cucumber.

“On Valentine’s Day?” Stephen smiled. Tony had been trash-talking the holiday for weeks. He claimed it was just a consumer thirst-trap and celebrating something as mundane as  _ love _ was stupid and should be abolished. Stephen took that at face value and figured Tony didn’t want to do anything -- not that he  _ should _ want to do anything. They weren’t dating, after all. They were just… hanging out. Fucking a lot. Spending a lot of time together. Definitely not dating. 

“Is that this Friday? Damn coincidence,” Tony said, his expression arch. Stephen narrowed his eyes: Tony was totally full of shit. With an innocent look on his face, Tony added, “So I’ll pick you up after work?” 

There was no escaping him sometimes. Christine would be disappointed, probably, but he’d make it up to her one way or another. For once, Tony was asking  _ him _ to hang out -- like really hang out. She’d have to understand.

“It’s a date.” 

  
  


He appeased her with a bottle of Chardonnay. 

“ _ J Vineyards _ ? Whoa there, big spender,” She winked, taking the bottle from him. “I’m sure the girls will love it.” 

When Stephen cancelled their plans fifteen minutes after making them, she immediately called up Nat and Wanda. Instead of bar-hopping with her best friend, she decided to attend a movie night at Nat’s apartment. Nat was on a Tarantino streak and Christine was looking forward to watching  _ Kill Bill _ volumes one and two. 

Stephen was excited and nervous. Tony was being so elusive at work that Stephen wanted to nickname him “The Scarlet Pimpernel”. When Stephen asked what they were going to do, Tony ignored him. He wasn’t mean about it, at least. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Tony honk outside. 

“Have fun,” Christine sent him off with a kiss on his cheek. How could he not??

  
  


Tony drove them to the  _ Haunt _ , the same place Stephen had gone for the  _ Rubblebucket _ concert. It was located on a pier, attached to a decrepit boathouse. It looked like the perfect place to throw a rave but since the inside was so spacious, they actually managed to accommodate a wide variety of music genres. 

Stephen was a little surprised by how fresh Tony smelled. He wondered if he hopped in the dish pit and took a shower. Like the little turd he was, Tony continued to evade Stephen’s questions until they parked outside of the venue. 

“ _ Brasstracks _ .” Tony said succinctly. “Amazing band. I don’t know if you’ve heard of them but I’m confident you’ll love them.” 

Stephen loved the name.  _ Rubblebucket _ , at least in their earlier albums, had inspired his appreciation for brass instruments. There was a time and place for jazz music, but there were a lot of musicians utilizing horns in different genres. A quick search on his phone told him  _ Brasstracks _ was an R&B/Hip-hop group out of Brooklyn. That description alone was enough to get him excited. 

Tony brought him a whiskey and ginger. The energy inside of the venue was completely hyped: there were more people packed inside than Stephen had seen before. Excitement thrummed through his veins as the opening band played. He skipped to the bar to get another drink, getting a Pilsner for Tony, when  _ Brasstracks  _ took the stage. 

They looked like Stephen imagined they would. Hipsters. Their setup was rather impressive in its simplicity. A drumset and a keyboard framed the stage and in the center stood four horn players. They dove right into their songs without an introduction and already the crowd was dancing. 

The music was moody, bright, upbeat. Stephen didn’t hear anything he didn’t like and it was  _ very _ fun watching Tony dance. Occasionally, Tony would take his hand, his eyes following the stiff movements of Stephen’s hips (he couldn’t help it he was less coordinated) and smiling. He tried to imitate Tony’s moves but ultimately it didn’t matter -- they were packed into the crowd like a can of sardines and Stephen found it was difficult not to accidentally rub up against somebody. 

When he felt someone come up behind him, Tony was the first to notice. He pushed the stranger out of the way, sliding his arms protectively around Stephen’s waist. He guided Stephen to a different part of the dance floor without saying a word. 

“This is amazing, they’re so good!” Stephen said later. It was difficult to hear over the music but Tony smiled. 

“I’m glad you like them!” Tony gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be right back, alright?” 

Tony disappeared through the crowd and Stephen suddenly understood why girls always went to the bathroom together. He felt fucking pathetic that he wanted to follow so he stood his ground, keeping his eyes locked on the stage. 

“Since this is a night of firsts, we’re going to cover a song we’ve never done before,” The lead musician said into the microphone. “To help us, I’d like to introduce to the stage my friend, Tony Stark!” 

What the fuck? Stephen watched as that sneaky little bastard rolled out onto the stage and did a special handshake with the lead musician. He was holding a trumpet and Stephen remembered Tony’s flippant comment during rehearsal.  _ Play one, you play ‘em all _ . 

The first few notes rang out and the crowd went crazy. Stephen immediately recognized the tune and his heart exploded. All of sudden Tony’s elusiveness became clear -- he’d been preparing,he’d been practicing. He was keeping this performance a secret and Stephen could have cried. Tony was playing the melody with the lead and Stephen knew this song was for  _ him _ . This was an all-brass instrumental version of Mariah Carey’s  _ Always Be My Baby _ , their favorite song. 

He grinned from ear to ear and made his way to the front of the crowd. Tony was completely in the zone but once in a while he’d pop his eyes open and catch Stephen’s gaze. Stephen danced. He didn’t care if he was surrounded by strangers because the way Tony played, it felt like they were the only two people in the room. This was, by far, the most romantic gesture he’d ever received in his life and he couldn’t be happier about it. Even though no one was singing, he heard Mariah’s voice ring loud and clear in his head.

_ You'll always be a part of me _

_ I'm part of you indefinitely _

_ Boy, don't you know you can't escape me _

_ Ooh, darling 'cause you'll always be my baby _

_ And we'll linger on _

_ Time can't erase a feeling this strong  _

_ No way, you're never gonna shake me _

_ Ooh, darling, 'cause you'll always be my baby _

When the song ended the crowd erupted with applause and cheers. Tony kissed his fingers and held out a peace sign to the crowd and Stephen laughed. He was such a showboat. Stephen met him at the edge of the stage and he didn’t give a shit about public affection, he kissed Tony right then and there. 

“Take me home. Right now,” Stephen demanded, his hands still cupping Tony’s cheeks. For once, Tony didn’t object.

“I’ll grab my coat.”

  
  


Stephen couldn’t contain his excitement. Literally. He tried to take Tony out of his jeans on the drive back to Stephen’s apartment but Tony wasn’t letting him do it. 

“ _ Can’t you wait ten minutes _ ?” Tony smacked his hand away, keeping his eyes religiously glued to the road. 

They didn’t make it three steps into the apartment before Stephen tore at Tony’s shirt, leaving a trail of clothing to his bedroom. The kisses were hot and heavy, desperate and needy. Stephen clawed at Tony’s back. He didn’t want one more second without Tony inside of him.

Three rounds later, Tony collapsed on his chest. Stephen was still in his post-orgasmic haze when he heard it. Tony mumbled something and Stephen wished he could turn back time to see if his ears were playing tricks on him or not. It sounded a lot like three words he’d been desperate to hear for some time now.

“What did you say?” Stephen said quietly, shaking Tony’s arm. A slight snore came out of Tony’s mouth and panic surged through Stephen’s body. He was already fast asleep. 

He couldn’t have heard that correctly, Tony would have said it more directly, right? His mind raced. Should he wake him up just to check? Not knowing what to do, he lay still, completely paralyzed. 

Did Tony really just say,  _ I love you  _ ? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Songs:**  
>  Always Be My Baby (cover) by Brasstracks  
> (and as a note, check out the titular song)  
> Animal Spirits by Vulfpeck
> 
> _  
> Now everyone seems unaware  
>  That these two are a destined pair  
> But I checked out their astral chart  
> This one is a work of art_
> 
> Leave a comment! :)


	23. Tell Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen is, without a doubt, his own worst enemy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Tell me it's over  
>  Tell me it's done  
> Tell me you love me, that I'm the one  
> Tell me where your heart lies  
> And I know where your heart lies  
> Are we together? Are we undone?  
> Thought we were forever, but maybe we're not  
> Tell me something I can hold on to  
> Just tell me  
> _  
> \- Spencer Sutherland

Stephen couldn’t breathe. The heat from Tony’s cheek felt like it was burrowing a hole of fire into his chest and he was torn. Without waking the sleeping musician, he scrambled to reach his phone with his fingertips. His heart was pounding but he just _needed_ to text Christine. 

**STEPHEN:**

Help!

I think Tony just said “I love you”

But idk because he’s asleep???

idk what to do sdlfkjaskdlf

  
  


He could feel Tony’s drool pooling on his sternum. He was _really_ passed out. Christine, like the good best friend she was, responded seconds later.

**CHRISTINE** :

WHAT

OMG

WTF WAKE HIM UP RIGHT NOW

It was admirable, really. The brightness from Stephen’s phone screen was illuminating half the room and Tony didn’t flinch, still softly snoring. He typed out some responses and erased them. Tony looked so goddamn peaceful, but...

**STEPHEN** :

~~I can’t. He’s so precious~~

~~He looks angelic~~

~~I just want to pet him~~

I kinda want to shake the shit out of him but that might come across as a little… idk. Uncouth?

**CHRISTINE:**

DO IT DO IT DO IT

This was just such a typical situation for Stephen to be in -- confused about something Tony had said and Tony was immediately unavailable to talk. It was like he was allergic to clear communication. Stephen cleared his throat loudly, hoping the slight noise would wake Tony from his slumber. Nothing. 

**CHRISTINE** :

DO IT DO IT DO IT

DO IT NOW

SHAKE HIM LIKE A SALT SHAKER

Maybe if he rolled his ribcage Tony would be disturbed by the movement. He stretched, Toy’s head threatening to fall off his chest, but Tony only pulled Stephen _closer_ , hooking his leg over Stephen’s in his sleep. 

Stephen pondered his options as Tony’s snores permeated the room. Either Tony said “I love you” or he _didn’t_ . If he did, that would completely change the trajectory of their relationship. It would no longer be (in Tony’s words) “easy breezy lemon squeezy”, it would suddenly become… serious. It would mean that Tony acknowledged that they had something special, maybe even something worth fighting for. If Tony _didn’t_ say it and Stephen woke him up for nothing, well… Stephen would be devastated.

He was being dramatic, maybe. If Tony didn’t say those three little words Stephen could probably recover. They were having fun, they were doing okay. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if Tony didn’t love him -- but the little voice in his head kept saying, _yes it would_! 

He felt his phone buzzing, no doubt it was just Christine checking for a follow up. But the scene was so peaceful -- his fan blowing in the background, the sounds of Tony sleeping, his fingers twitching as he slept. Stephen didn’t want to disrupt anything with his probable insane accusations. He tried to imagine how Tony would react if Stephen woke him up and he _didn’t_ say it: would he be pissed? Would he be offended? Would he call Stephen stupid and march right out of his bedroom, never to be seen or heard from again (except at work, awkwardly)? 

As much as Stephen wanted to know, he _didn’t_ want to know if it was going to be an answer he didn’t like. The only solution he could come up with was an ultimatum with himself. It was like Schrodinger’s cat -- if Tony said it again, then it would prove that tonight, Valentine’s Day, Tony told Stephen he loved him. If he never said it again, then Stephen was a fucking love-hungry bitch and he was hearing things. 

He would have to wait.

  
  
  


Even in Stephen’s wildest dreams, he didn’t think he’d still be waiting a full month later. Christine blamed him, calling him a coward. If he’d just had the balls to _ask him_ he wouldn’t still be wondering. He hated himself for being so shy. He should have been able to look Tony in the eye the next day and just _ask_ but Tony wasn’t there when he woke up in the morning. He didn’t even see him for two whole days because of how their shifts lined up. It was driving Stephen crazy -- _What if he didn’t say it_? He didn’t pressure Tony, didn’t annoy him with a million texts (Christine was less fortunate). He just wanted one signal, one word that he was at least on the right track. 

The thought of Tony plagued his mind from the moment he woke up until he went to sleep at night. He was a man obsessed -- he listened to Tony’s favorite songs over and over until he memorized all of the lyrics. He watched movies Tony had mentioned in passing conversations just so he could quote them with him. It was becoming a sickness and Stephen didn’t want to get better. 

He’d agonize over every single text he sent, wondering if the wording was right or if Tony would respond. In his mind, there was a certain formula to get Tony to respond quicker -- if he said something seductive or interesting, Tony would respond within minutes. If he asked something _mundane_ like “How’s your day?” it might take hours, and there would be no request for follow up or reciprocation. 

He was beginning to feel a little insane. Christine noticed he was eating less and he was spending most of his free time daydreaming. What if Tony loved him? Was Tony thinking about him just as much? When they were apart, did Tony wish they were together? He sure hoped so. 

Valentine’s Day had been a pivotal point no matter what words had or hadn’t been said. Tony was in. Eventually, he texted Stephen back within a reasonable time frame, and he told Stephen what he was doing if they weren’t hanging out. Stephen finally felt like he was in the fucking loop and maybe he and Tony were on the same page. He just couldn’t bring himself to ask the final question, fearing their relationship would crumble like a house of cards.

They’d talked about what would happen when Tony left exactly once. It was during one of their late night chats and Stephen couldn’t help but wonder aloud: would Tony be interested in a long term relationship? Without laughing, Tony said no. 

“It was _terrible_ ,” Tony explained. Stephen tried to keep the bile from rising in his stomach, swallowing. “We were fine for like, maybe a month. But then she cheated, I cheated. We fought, we fucked, we wound up hating each other.” 

“Oh,” Stephen said quietly. He’d kind of guessed the answer and maybe he never should have asked in the first place. He couldn’t imagine how much he would torture himself if Tony was on tour and Stephen was all alone. Tony would be surrounded by temptation night after night, groupies and fan girls clawing at the cuff of his jeans. God, he was going to get fucked a lot on tour, wasn’t he? Stephen shuddered at the thought at anyone else’s hands on Tony’s body, someone else’s lips brushing against his, someone else making Tony cum...

“You don’t want me to hate you, do you?” Tony asked, stroking Stephen’s hair, letting the curls wrap around his fingers. 

“No,” was Stephen’s response, and he never brought it up again. 

He sought other information instead. The clock may be ticking on their relationship but the least Stephen could do was find out more about Tony. He asked questions in small doses. If he asked a string of questions Tony felt like he was being investigated and would shut off. He wanted to make plans -- no matter how much time they had left, he wanted to make memories and truly maximize their time spent together. 

“When’s your birthday?” Stephen asked casually one day. They were at the Tower and Tony was taking up the entire table in the kitchen, cleaning his car’s alternator. Filthy rags were littered across the room and Stephen awkwardly sat opposite him, sipping on a cold cup of coffee. 

“May 29th,” Tony said, not breaking his focus.  
“Oh. When are you going on tour?”  
“A couple of weeks after that, probably.” 

They sat in uncomfortable silence, or at least Stephen felt uncomfortable. The ceramic mug felt too small in his hands and his phone was charging across the room. He didn’t have anything to look at except the stupid mug or the slowly-growing pile of dirtied cotton swabs on the table. 

“How’d your interview go?” Tony asked a few minutes later. “What was it, Harvard?” 

“Harvard was last week. Columbia was yesterday.”

“And?”

Stephen didn’t know how to respond. Tony was always on his case about not beating himself up. Stephen had a certain flare for being too critical of himself and Tony didn’t like it. 

“It went okay,” Stephen decided. “We’ll see if they reject me.” 

“They’d be morons, you’re brilliant,” Tony looked at him sincerely. “Seriously. They’d be fucking idiots to deny you.” 

“Thank you,” Stephen sipped his coffee, ruminating on the possibilities. He couldn’t help it. “But what if they say no, too? What if I don’t get in anywhere?” 

Tony smiled warmly. “There’s always room on the tour bus.”

His heart fluttered at the thought. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t get into medical school after all. 

  
  
  
  


They went to the movies one night. The local cinema was showing _La Grande Bouffe_ and while Stephen had never heard of it, it happened to be one of Tony’s favorite films. He didn’t know why Tony liked an explicit Italian-French movie from the seventies, but he was happy to go all the same. 

Settling into their seats with freshly buttered popcorn, Stephen couldn’t help but feel nervous. It was almost like a date but in reality he’d be super embarrassed if anyone saw him -- yes, he was with Tony, but they were seeing a satirical art film in the middle of the night and within the first few minutes Stephen understood it was quite lewd. 

There were maybe a dozen other people in the cramped theater. Stephen surmised they were art critics or perverts. There was literally no other reason to show up to an eleven o’clock showing of a cult film that no one wanted to see. 

Stephen studied Tony’s face as he shoveled popcorn into his mouth. He was watching the screen with rapt attention, mouthing the words of quotes he knew and loved. Stephen was finding it difficult to focus on the subtitles, too busy watching Tony’s eyes wrinkle as he laughed or the curve of his mouth when he was smiling. He was too beautiful for words. 

Tony was the only one who laughed during the final scene. Stephen looked on, horrified, as the last of the main characters died and the scene was overrun with a pack of wild dogs picking at their carcasses. Tony thought it was knee-slapping hilarious and Stephen shrunk in his chair as the lights turned on and the credits began to roll. 

“Wasn’t that great?” Tony said, wiping tears out of his eyes as they walked out of the theater. 

“Yeah, so great,” Stephen agreed, but he didn’t pay attention to half the movie. His disinterest was clear and Tony gave him a look.

“What’s the matter with you? You’re so distracted lately.” 

Nightlife had begun in the Commons and already the street was packed with bar hoppers. Tony shivered, wearing an inadequate jean jacket for the frigid weather. Stephen threw his arm around him, having the smarts to wear a well-insulated puffer coat. 

“I’m fine,” Stephen lied. Tony kept talking, mentioning something about grabbing some pizza before they headed home. Stephen agreed absentmindedly, the small voice in his head incessant.

_I’m fine_ , it repeated. 

_I just wish you’d tell me you loved me_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! It's finals week (:
> 
> Next chap: Ghosts from Tony's past come to haunt him. 
> 
> “Tony… there are some people at table five who would like to speak with you,” Pepper sauntered into the kitchen, an annoyed look on her face. Stephen was in the process of re-racking some silverware and needed to leave, but she was standing directly in the doorway.  
> “Tell ‘em I’m busy,” Tony huffed, his face obscured by the expediting station.  
> “I told them that, and they insisted.”  
> “Well tell them —”  
> “I’m not telling them anything, will you just go out there, please?”  
> “Who is it?”  
> “How would I know? Do I look like your personal assistant?” Pepper snapped, and finally left the kitchen. Stephen quickly followed her, hearing Tony slap his towel down on the line. 
> 
> Leave a comment :)  
> (Also -- thank you to all of you who comment all the time!! Literally fills me with joy and I'm so happy to hear from you.)


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really can't think of a good title name... anyways, Tony gets a wee bit jealous and people from his past show up at Bella's.

“You have fun last night?” Tony was honing his knife without looking, keeping his eyes locked on Stephen as he walked through the kitchen at  _ Bella’s _ . Stephen was slightly hungover, he really wasn’t ready for any derisive comments Tony was going to throw his way. 

“I did,” he said dismissively. 

“I went around your place, Christine said you weren’t there,” Tony continued. Whatever he was implying wasn’t good. “Did you fuck Rogers?” 

“ _ No _ ,” Stephen said firmly, and he didn’t like that the entirety of the kitchen crew was privy to their conversation. “We watched a movie and I fell asleep.” 

It wasn’t a lie. Rogers had invited him over to see a new World War II documentary that had been released by PBS and Stephen couldn’t refuse. There’d been whiskey, sure, but the allure of Ken Burns was too much for Stephen to resist. Apart from that, it was just  _ Rogers _ . He was straight as a pin. He didn’t like that Tony was looking at him like he had something to confess. 

“I fell asleep on his  _ couch _ ,” Stephen clarified. “I didn’t fuck him.” 

Tony clearly wasn’t pleased with his response, cleaning his knife with alarming preciseness while he watched Stephen put away his things in his locker. Stephen didn’t want to elucidate, already Clint was listening attentively and even Rhodey had stopped trimming his pile of steaks to lend an open ear. This wasn’t the time nor place, and yet, Tony pressed the conversation further. 

“I don’t care what you do, alright?” Tony said, his voice ringing clear through the quiet kitchen. “We never said this thing was exclusive. Sorry I asked.” 

He kept honing his knife, the sound of metal against metal shrill in Stephen’s ears. He felt the heat begin to rise in his cheeks and he didn’t know why Tony felt the need to put him on the spot. He wanted to hop over the line and strangle him. Like  _ hell _ he didn’t care. 

“We didn’t  _ do anything _ \--” 

“There’s a six top at five-thirty,” Pepper burst into the kitchen, her clipboard clutched in her perfectly-manicured hand. “And an eight-top at seven. Did you prepare enough souffles?” 

Stephen didn’t have long to muse on the implications of Tony’s words. Pushed out of the kitchen by his insistent manager, he clocked in and tidied up his section. He’d arrived late, missing the staff meal, and the crew was in full-swing getting ready for service. It irked him as he read over Natasha’s notes. Why the hell was Tony picking a fight  _ now _ ? He felt they’d been in an awkward limbo since Valentine’s day but overall things had been pretty good.

If anyone was to be suspicious it really should have been Stephen about  _ Tony _ . Stephen was predictable. He either went out with Christine, with Nat and Scott, or not at all. He wasn’t cruising the town looking for  _ hot babes _ , not that he could get anyone anyway. His evening at the lesbian bar had quelled his urges for random hook ups for the time being, if not forever. He either fucked Tony or he jerked himself to sleep. There were no other options. 

So for Tony to be accusatory on the first night when Stephen had other plans, well. That was certainly a new development and Stephen didn’t know how he felt about it. There was a fire burning behind Tony’s eyes when he put up food for Stephen’s tables and Stephen didn’t feel comfortable enough to address it in front of the entire kitchen crew. They’d exhausted the amount of times they could be caught having a quiet conversation in the walk-in. It was unfortunate this was Rogers’ day off and he couldn’t immediately corroborate Stephen’s story. This would have to wait until after work. 

  
  


They were annoyingly busy - he and Natasha were the only two servers scheduled because it was spring break. That meant a lot of their college clientele were gone, but for a Monday night, Stephen found himself swamped. He and Nat worked together smoothly, grateful that Sam managed to pop out of the kitchen and bus tables for them while they took care of everything else. The night might have been mundane if it wasn’t for the arrival of two certain people.

The first thing Stephen noticed was the man’s impeccable blonde hair. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored pin-stripe suit, a silky emerald green handkerchief stuffed in his pocket square. He shed his long wool coat, hanging it on the coat rack in the vestibule with a certain disdain. His thick rimmed glasses framed his close-set eyes, giving him an almost hawkish appearance. He swaggered into the restaurant with his arm around a beautiful woman, his hips so stiff it looked like he was operated by a marionnettiste. 

The woman threw her head back laughing as they walked in, her skin as smooth and pale as porcelain. Her dark hair was set in a bob giving the impression she’d just walked out of speakeasy in the roaring twenties. Her lips were painted a deep red and when her smoky eyes flitted over in Stephen’s direction, he felt immediately entranced by her presence. 

Pepper swooped over, greeting them in pleasant tones and doing what she did best. Stephen could hear the sweet talking, the titters, the small acknowledgment of similar upbringing that allowed Pepper to schmooze like nobody’s business. Stephen and Natasha waited with bated breath to see who’s section they were going to be seated in. Stephen let out a sigh of relief -- they were in Nat’s! 

“Fuck off,” she rolled her eyes and grabbed a pair of menus, strolling off with a fake smile plastered on her face. Stephen checked on his tables and circled back to the kitchen, hoping there would be something clean to bring back out front. 

“Tony… there are some people at table five who would like to speak with you,” Pepper sauntered into the kitchen, an annoyed look on her face. Stephen was in the process of re-racking some silverware and needed to leave, but she was standing directly in the doorway. 

“Tell ‘em I’m busy,” Tony huffed, his face obscured by the expediting station. 

“I told them that, and they insisted.”

“Well tell them —”

“I’m not telling them anything, will you just go out there, please?”

“Who is it?”

“How would I know? Do I look like your personal assistant?” Pepper snapped, and finally left the kitchen. Stephen quickly followed her, hearing Tony slap his towel down on the line. 

“Lookit your cute little shirt!” The woman squealed, holding out the hem of Tony’s shirt like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. She threw her arms around him, squeezing his neck, and Tony awkwardly patted her on the back. 

“Wow, Anthony, you look like a mental patient,” The man said, holding his hand out for a handshake. When the woman disengaged from Tony’s shoulders, he shook his hand. 

“So good to see you Justin, always,” Tony said in an even tone. He turned back to the woman who was idly playing with the lapel of his chef coat, her eyes sparkling with admiration.“Viv. What are you guys doing here?”

“We came to see you, silly,” The woman, Viv, tapped Tony’s nose with the tip of her finger. Stephen squirmed watching them but Nat was beside him, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt. One of his tables needed his attention and he couldn’t stay to watch the scene unfold. That lady better keep her fucking distance. 

  
  


“Who was that?” He asked Tony later, back in the safety of the kitchen.

“Friends from home,” Tony said shortly. He’d gone back to work like nothing happened and Stephen was dying to know what that was all about. Tony’s mood had taken a dive as soon as he spoke to them, and the kitchen crew was tip-toeing around him like he was a bomb that was about to go off. 

“That’s nice,” Stephen said lightly and Tony gave him a look, displeased. 

“Is it?”

“Well,” Stephen continued, “What did they want?”

“Nothing. They’re in town. We’re gonna get drinks later.” 

Tony wasn’t budging. Stephen decided to push his luck -- Tony was being particularly obstinate that evening and he needed to know why. First that thing with Rogers, and then two people mysteriously showed up from his past and suddenly Tony was being more insufferable than usual. He wanted to know what business that woman had hugging Tony, tapping him on the nose, and quite generally throwing herself at him. He wanted to know why Tony was being a fucking dick. “Can I come?”

“They’re assholes. They’re terrible people.” 

“I can deal with assholes,” Stephen said, and Rhodey’s head whipped up to say some witty retort but Stephen stopped him with a glare. “Clearly.” 

  
  
  


Stephen hung around after his shift to wait for Tony to finish closing the kitchen. They were meeting Justin and Viv at a cocktail bar a couple of blocks away from  _ Bella _ ’s. He nursed his shift drink, a double shot of whiskey, while Tony finished up. When Tony finally emerged from the kitchen, he had changed and fixed his hair in the bathroom. He wore a black blazer Stephen had never seen before, and tamed his fluffy locks, his dark hair sleek and styled. When he walked past Stephen at the bar he gave no indication of stopping, and Stephen threw back the rest of his whiskey in one gulp. 

The bar was a short walk from  _ Bella _ ’s but it didn’t stop Tony from lighting up a cigarette as soon as they got outside. Stephen watched him carefully, watched the relief wash over his face as his lungs filled with smoke and he felt that first rush of nicotine. Tony marched ahead with purpose, Stephen struggling to keep up walking across the ice-laden sidewalk. Tony didn’t speak, pacing in place as they arrived at the entrance of  _ The Cask & Collins _ cocktail bar. 

“I didn’t sleep with Rogers --” Stephen tried to reiterate, but Tony held his finger up.

“Uh uh, we’re not talking about that right now,” he said curtly. The cigarette hung loosely on his lips as he spoke. “I need your head in the game. I need you to be fucking ready for this.” 

“Um, okay,” Stephen said, puzzled. 

“Before we go in, I need to apologize,” Tony cradled Stephen’s elbow in his palm, pulling his body only slightly closer. “They don’t know me like you do. No one does.” 

Stephen opened his mouth to say something, but Tony cut him off again. 

“I was different, back then. I’m still changing and I don’t think I know myself. But I know… I know I don’t like how I am around them, so this is me giving you an out. Last chance for you to go home. I’ll pay for the cab.” 

The look on Tony’s face was heartbreaking. He was baring his soul for Stephen to see and Stephen was so tempted to say something cheesy like,  _ wild horses couldn’t drag me away _ but he knew that was just his coping mechanism to deal with such a serious moment. 

“I’m staying with you,” Stephen said, hoping his voice was steady. He meant it in more ways than one. Tony blinked and threw his ashed cigarette into the muddy street. With one final exhalation of smoke, he walked towards the bar entrance. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

How bad could they  _ possibly _ be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finals are done so you can expect less delays :) Leave a comment!


	25. Sabotage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen gets a glimpse of Tony's past life... but his hard work pays off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _So far away while you're standing in front of me  
>  Why do you stay but you keep me just out of reach?  
> I don't want to cave, you don't know what I'm going through  
> You're not the same, why am I chasing after you?  
> This isn't you anymore  
> And I won't be a victim of your sabotage  
> _  
> \- Everything Must Go, Josh Rubin

Inside of  _ The Cask & Collins _ was dark, each table lit by a single candle. Even the bar was dimly lit: old fashioned bulbs strung from the ceiling were used more as a statement than for illumination. The vibe was decidedly different from the junkier bars downtown. It reeked of entitlement and Stephen was gently reminded why he hated their clientele so much sometimes. Across from the bar, Justin’s head of hair was unmistakable. His golden mop flopped in the air every time he laughed at something supposedly funny. Tony cleared his throat and marched towards their table. 

“Anthony! You made it!” Justin exclaimed, holding his hand out for a handshake and pulling Tony into a hug with the other. “I was just telling Viv you were going to chicken out.”

“I can never turn down a true challenge,” Tony kissed Viv on the cheek and she flashed him a winning smile. 

“Who’s this?” She dragged her dark eyes up Stephen’s body and he knew she was deducing all she could. His scuffed up shoes, his wrinkled pants, his frayed bomber jacket. Suddenly he felt horrendously underdressed. He didn’t even want to remove his coat for fear of revealing his work shirt, a collared button-up that was three different shades of black with some bleach stains. 

“This is Stephen,” Tony stepped aside and Justin shook his hand. Despite how he looked his handshake was pretty weak, he sort of held his hand out and Stephen did all of the shaking. He held his hand out to shake Viv’s hand but she didn’t hesitate -- she took his hand, brought it to her mouth, and before Stephen knew it she licked the length of his fingers in one swipe. 

“You’ll have to excuse her, this is what she’s like when she has gin,” Justin said fondly. Stephen tried to mask his horror and retracted his hand stiffly, wiping her spit on the back of his pant leg. Viv was still looking at him like he was ripe for eating but Justin had moved on. “Are you two dating? Does Howard know about this?”

“We’re  _ friends _ ,” Tony clarified, a tinge of annoyance in his voice. “And gin? Is that what we’re drinking?” 

“Come with me to the bar and I’ll catch you up.” Justin threw his arm around Tony and began to guide him towards the bar. Tony shot back a look at Stephen and called out. 

“You want the usual?”

Stephen nodded in response. He took a seat next to Viv, stealing a glance at the boys buying drinks. Already Justin was chatting Tony’s ear off and Stephen felt very sorry for him. 

“So you and Tony, huh?” Viv suggested, a smile already forming on her rouged lips. He tried to respond but only a garbled noise came out. He didn’t know what he should say, especially if Tony had already made it clear they were  _ just friends _ , whatever the fuck that meant. “Don’t be ashamed. We’ve all had our way with him once or twice. Or several times.” 

“You’ve all -- all of you?” Stephen stuttered. Did she mean her and Justin? Or their whole group of friends? Maybe he was better off not knowing. 

“I like to have fun,” She winked at him and he suddenly became aware of her hand on his leg, slowly kneading his thigh. She leaned in closer and added, “And Tony is  _ a lot _ of fun.” 

Stephen blushed, knowing his discomfort was clearly visible on his face. He gently pushed Viv’s hand off his leg and she giggled. He had to reroute the conversation.

“What brings you to town?” He inquired politely. She certainly had a way about her, Stephen didn’t know it was possible to be alluring and repulsive at the same time. 

“Oh, just doing a favor for an old friend. … I don’t know how you stand this place, it’s so fucking boring. If you want to have a really good time, you should come back with me to my hotel room. 

Stephen was going through the responses in his brain --  _ I don’t swing that way, if I did swing that way I still wouldn’t _ , or  _ No thank you, I don’t want a venereal disease, _ or  _ it’s not you, it’s me -- I don’t like you _ \-- but Tony and Justin came back to the table in the nick of time. 

“How are we getting along here? Fast friends?” Justin smiled, thumping Stephen on the back. Tony handed him his drink (finally) and Vivienne smiled as Justin handed her hers. 

“Absolutely.” 

  
  
  


“How’d you end up in this dinky little town?” Justin wondered aloud, looking around the bar like it was a perfect representation of the city. A slight frown was on his impish face and he wore an expression like he’d just sniffed sour milk.

“My best friend and bandmate goes to the dinky little Ivy League,” Tony drawled, “You might have heard of it.” 

“Ha. They might have mentioned it at Princeton,” Justin said smugly. “Where did you go, Stephen? Yale? Stanford?” 

Even though he graduated, Stephen still found the question jarring and abrasive. 

“Uh… a state university in Nebraska.” 

Justin nearly spit out his drink. “Oh my god why?” 

“My parents live there--”

“Stephen’s a medical student. He got accepted to Harvard last week,” Tony offered and Stephen gave him a look. He most certainly had not been accepted anywhere, let alone Harvard. 

“Is that so? Welcome to the Ivies, my guy!” Justin raised his glass to him and Stephen began to hate him a little bit. He only did it because Tony had proved Stephen’s worthiness through some meritless bullshit. 

“I think I met someone who went to a public college once. If memory serves me correctly, I think she’s a janitor now or something,” Viv said vaguely, tapping her chin. Stephen chose to ignore her derisive comment. 

“Where did you go to school, Anthony? It was so many years ago, I don’t remember,” Justin asked, a malicious glint in his eye. Stephen highly doubted he’d forgotten. He would have to be dropped on his head to forget where Tony spent six years of his life, collecting degrees like Pokémon cards. Then again, he’d been sitting at the table with Justin for all of fifteen minutes and he wasn’t beginning to doubt that he suffered from some sort of brain injury. 

“MIT.” Tony said. Stephen saw his hand clench on the table cloth but Justin and Viv were so absorbed in themselves they didn’t notice. The conversation turned into reminiscing about their college days, remembering the parties and the people. Their lifestyles were lavish and excessive, and the stories they recounted were borderline psychopathic. Instead of shrinking in his seat, as Stephen would have done, Tony grinned widely as Viv told a terrifying account of one evening with a bag of mystery pills and someone’s Porsche. 

“I don’t seem to remember you being there, Justin,” Tony added when Justin had slapped the table with his hand, laughing like he’d been in the backseat. Stephen was annoyed.

“That’s because I was back at the hotel room doing lines off of a random hooker,” Justin said, and Tony scoffed. 

“I’m sure you were.”

“So what’s your game plan, Anthony? You can’t stay here forever,” Justin detracted the attention from himself. “Working long hours, getting minimum wage, doing fuck all.”

“Um, obviously I’m going to become a famous rock star and get rich,” Tony said cooly.

“You’re already rich,” Viv pointed out.

“Rich on my own terms.” 

“I don’t know why you’re walking away from the dynasty, man,” Justin sighed and turned to Stephen. “My father is the founder and CEO of Hammer Industries. Straight outta grad school I’m appointed a CEO —”

“Junior CEO,” Tony corrected.

“Details, whatever — but it’s fucking easy street. I show up at eleven, sign some papers, attend some boring meetings and then before ya know it it’s 4pm and I’m schmoozing with some Wall Street schleps in FiDi, high off my ass, drunk as all fuck, and I just put it on the company card.” 

“Sounds titillating,” Stephen remarked, not impressed in the slightest. 

“Oh, there’s tits alright,” Justin smiled, his eyes wandering to some far off place. “You miss it, don’t ya Tony? The high life? The private jet, all the girls you could ask for. Remember when we went to Ibiza for the weekend? 

“I remember getting on the plane to Ibiza, I don’t remember anything after that.”

“And that’s not motivation enough to get out of this shit hole?” 

“Be  _ nice _ , Justin, he’s doing his very best,” Viv cooed and Tony rolled his eyes. 

“Look, this is just a way station. It’s a place where I’m at but nothing I do here really matters,” Tony replied and Stephen felt a little wounded. Nothing mattered? Nothing mattered over the past few months? Years? What was the point of existing if nothing mattered? “I’m working at a restaurant and I’ve got my band. All the important stuff is what happens after.” 

“Like the part where you die a poor and starving musician, clutching your guitar strings while debating whether or not you’ll kill yourself?” Justin said wryly, grinning at his own cleverness. 

“Always a ray of sunshine, you are.” 

“I’m just saying. You’re throwing away a perfectly good opportunity for a stable lifestyle. You’re being moronic. I know Howard hasn’t been the kindest towards you but you’re standing to inherit millions. Billions, if the company keeps up its trajectory. It’d be a real shame if they had to merge with another company just to keep things going.” 

“What are you saying?” Tony peered at Justin over the rim of his glass, taking a sip of his drink slowly. The room seemed to quiet and all Stephen could focus on was the clink of ice as Tony put his drink down on the table. 

“I’m saying there’s been some talk around the water cooler about your lack of commitment, and maybe I’ve met with your father to discuss the possibilities of Hammer Industries absorbing any and all contracts  _ if _ and when he steps down. If he were to meet an untimely end --”

“Is that a threat, Hammer?” Tony asked, his voice suddenly dark and deep. He regarded Justin with an intense gaze and Justin balked. 

“What? No! Please. Stark Industries is the largest purveyor of weapons and technology for the US military. There’s no way a guy like your dad doesn’t have a target on his head,” Justin laughed, and Stephen couldn’t think of a more inappropriate response. Sensing the poor reception of his comments, he coughed “I’m sorry to lay it all out on you like that, it wasn’t my intention to let that spill out over drinks. We met in confidence, I shouldn’t have said anything at all. You need a hit?”

Tony considered his question for a moment, then answered, “Yeah.”

“After you, sir,” Justin held his arm out as they stood, indicating for Tony to go first.

“A hit? A hit of what?” He asked Viv as he watched them disappear through the crowded bar.

“You’re adorable,” She pouted and tapped his nose. She certainly had a thing for touching people’s faces. “I can see why Tony likes you so much. You’re different from anyone else he’s dated.” 

“Oh?” Stephen was most surprised by the fact Tony had actually, officially dated anyone. Sounded like a perfect hell. 

“You’re smart. And you’re intuitive, I like that,” A dreamy grin was plastered on her face and he wondered exactly what combination of pills she had imbibed that evening that still let her sit upright. She’d been nursing the same drink for the last hour but seemed just as drunk as the others. “What are you gonna do when you’re a doctor?”

“Um, save lives, I imagine,” Stephen said. He wasn’t sure what she had meant -- do people not simply do the work their profession requires of them? He supposed it might be difficult for her to visualize as she introduced herself as an heiress. Like Hammer, she didn’t have a real job or any real responsibilities. She was just… drifting. 

“That’s it?” She slurred, and Stephen watched her eyes slide in and out of focus. He swapped her drink with a glass of water when she wasn’t looking. “What about… what will you do for you?” 

“I’m not sure what you mean by that.” 

It didn’t matter what he said because Viv had slumped in her seat, apparently asleep. He checked her pulse and it was fine, he shook her gently and her head rolled backwards. Frantic, he caught the back of her neck with his hand.

“Viv, Viv can you hear me? Wake up, please,” Stephen looked around hoping no one noticed. What would they think? Would they think he drugged her? “ _ Vivienne _ .” 

“Wha --” She shook out of her brief slumber, a moment of realization falling across her face. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to excuse me. I need to use the ladies’ room.” 

She got up, clutching her purse like it was more valuable than a parking spot in Manhattan, and Stephen sat back in his chair wondering exactly what the fuck just happened. He chugged the remainder of his drink just in time for Tony and Justin to come back to the table. They were laughing about something, but Tony slid Stephen another whiskey ginger with a wink. 

Viv came back to the table minutes later, looking eerily refreshed and chipper. She purchased herself another drink, pushing the glass of water Stephen had subtly placed in front of her far out of reach. They were back into reminiscing about various things, particularly one summer where they all went to a technology conference in Switzerland. Under the guise of learning, they attended workshops during the day and networked with other rich kids like themselves but what they really did was get fucked up on drugs and alcohol. From what Stephen gleaned, that was just an average day in their lives. His opinion of Justin and Viv dipped lower and lower with every raunchy story they told. It might have been tolerable if Tony wasn’t laughing along with them, impassive to Stephen’s clear discomfort.

“What was that guy's name -- the one who hated you so much?” Justin snapped his fingers, willing the others to remember. “Ethan? Evan?” 

“Ivan,” Tony said dryly. “Dunno what his deal was. You’d think people would hate me just for existing.” 

“That’s definitely within the realm of possibility,” Stephen added wistfully, and Tony shot him a glare. Stephen was on the verge of drinking too much and he couldn’t hold back his tongue much longer. Every vapid thing that came out of Justin and Viv’s mouths were just begging for a retort and only his loyalty to Tony kept him quiet. Closing time was approaching and Stephen was never so relieved to hear the last call.

“Come back with us, Tony,” Viv whined, pawing at Tony’s shirt front. Stephen felt his temper rise as Tony kept smiling at her, completely pliant beneath her wicked hands. “Do that thing you did to me in Zurich.  _ La petite mort _ .” 

“Well you know me… I’m up for anything,” Tony said with a stupid grin, and Stephen had had enough. He excused himself from the table and walked as steadily as he could towards the bathroom. He was unraveling at the seams and he couldn’t stand to sit at the table for one more millisecond. He closed the bathroom stall with a sigh of relief. Peace. Quiet. Of course, Tony pounded on the door a minute later and reluctantly, Stephen opened it. 

“What’s the matter with you?” Tony demanded, a crazy look in his eyes. “Why are you being weird?”

“ _ I’m _ being weird?” Stephen tried not to laugh, his anger slowly bubbling to the surface. “What the fuck’s up with you?”

“I’m just playing their game,” Tony tried to pacify him, holding his hands out as if in surrender. 

“By fucking them?” Stephen seethed.

“I don’t want to fuck anyone but you,” Tony grabbed Stephen’s head and pressed their lips together, a frenzied kiss that Stephen broke when he tasted the acidity on Tony’s tongue. 

“You’ve been doing coke?” Stephen spat into the toilet, his mouth still acrid from their kiss.

“Would you prefer it be heroin?” 

“I’d prefer it be nothing at all.” 

“Well, we can’t have everything in life, can we?” Tony pushed him out of the way and went to relieve himself in the toilet. Stephen closed the stall door, not that Tony cared. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

“I  _ told _ you -- I told you this was going to be miserable for you--” Tony shook his head.

“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this at all--”

“Howard sent them,” Tony snapped. He fixed his fly and got back into Stephen’s face, his voice low and threatening. “Howard sent them to talk some sense into me, alright? They’re his fucking lackeys and I know it. I don’t know if they know I know it.” 

“I still don’t --”

“There’s a lot at stake here!” Tony cried. Stephen suddenly understood the look he was seeing on Tony’s face. He was panicking. “If I don’t play my cards right, and he hears back that I’m doing whatever the fuck I’m really doing… That’s why we’re  _ just  _ friends. That’s why I don’t fucking care what happens here. That’s why I’m licking fucking Justin Hammer’s taint--”

“You’re what?”

“Not literally. Probably,” Tony shrugged, and then a slight smirk formed on his lips. “Would it bother you if I did?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Stephen said through gritted teeth. 

“Look, I am  _ sorry _ that you have to see this. I’m sorry I let you come here at all,” Tony pushed his way out of the stall and went to wash his hands. Stephen followed, waiting to use the sink, his arms crossed as he leant against the stall. “I just have to do some blow, suck up to Hammer, make them feel all nice and pretty before they go back and report their findings to my dad. 

“You don’t have to do any of that. Come home with me.” Stephen came up behind him and repeated into his ear, “Come home with me.” 

“I really wish things were that easy,” Tony dried his hands and turned around, watching Stephen scrub his hands in the warm water. “So, what’ll it be? Are you in or are you out?”

“I’m…” Stephen chose his next words carefully. He let the water and soap envelope his fingers, watched the suds swirl down the drain. As much as he wanted to be with Tony he couldn’t just stand idly by and watch him destroy himself, watch him degrade himself all for the sake of what -- to be spared the wrath of Howard? Stephen didn’t know what Tony’s father was like and he had gotten an idea, but he just couldn’t fathom why Tony didn’t walk away. This wasn’t healthy, sane, or normal. Shaking his hands dry, he took the paper towel Tony was holding out for him. “I’m out.” 

Tony didn’t miss a beat. “Let me get you a cab.” 

“I’ll walk,” Stephen made to move towards the exit but Tony stepped in front of him.

“It’s cold out there.” 

“I need to  _ think _ ,” He stepped again but Tony was blocking him from leaving, his body pinning Stephen against the bathroom wall. They were close, so close -- and Stephen was overwhelmed as Tony pressed his body into his. He could feel Tony’s heart pounding in his chest, could smell the scent of cigarettes on his clothing, could feel Tony’s breath on his skin.

“This doesn’t change anything for me. I still… I still feel the same way about you,” Tony said quietly, his large brown eyes peering into Stephen’s soul. 

“And how’s that?”

“Like I’m falling for you.” Tony said it with confidence and part of Stephen was thrilled, but then Tony wrinkled his nose and threw his head back, his eyes watering as he felt a spontaneous rush. “Oh my  _ god _ that coke is good. Wow.” 

“Goodnight, Tony,” Stephen wriggled out from between the wall and Tony’s body. 

“Stephen, wait --”

He could hear Tony clambering after him but he left the bathroom abruptly. He had to leave the bar. He didn’t think he could even stand to say good-bye to Justin and Viv, he certainly didn’t feel like he owed them anything. They’d treated him like he was non-existent the entire evening, their focus solely on their prey.

And Tony wasn’t saying no. He didn’t object to being treated like shit, to being belittled. He didn’t correct Hammer when he shat on his lifestyle. He didn’t stop Viv from coming on to either of them and Stephen was livid. The entire evening was a disaster and once again he didn’t know if he was more angry at himself or at Tony. He had to get out. Tony didn’t chase after him. 

He stumbled his way home, shuffling through the ice and the snow. He wanted to scream, let his voice echo through the empty streets, but the cold was attacking his throat and frankly it was hard to breathe. He felt his chest constrict painfully as he walked down the hill and he couldn’t help but feel overcome with anger and grief. 

It didn’t have to be so fucking difficult. They were having a fling, a fleeting love affair. So why did it hurt so much? He let the tears fall as he closed his bedroom door. It was all overwhelming, Tony’s accusations, Tony’s feelings, Tony’s friends, Tony in general.

He needed to vent, he needed to sort through his feelings. He grabbed his laptop and opened a blank document and began to type. He tried to recall everything - their first encounter in the walk in, that night at Flanny’s, that fucking random blowjob in front of the church? Fuck, Tony was right -- it  _ would  _ make a good story. Thor’s party in the woods, the night at the Atomic Lounge, that night when Tony played the trumpet for him… They’d been through a lot. They’d fought a lot, they’d loved a lot. That was just the problem with Tony. He was a  _ lot _ . 

He let the words spill from his fingertips, not caring if they made sense or formed any sort of cohesive thought. He wasn’t trying to write a story, merely recapture all the moments that they’d shared so he could begin to formulate an idea of where they were now. The truth was, he didn’t know. He didn’t know what Tony was going to get up to that evening and he didn’t know what would happen to them down the line. All he knew, for sure, was that Tony had said he was falling for him. But maybe he’d said it on a coke-addled brain… he was angry at himself for not taking the opportunity to find out earlier, before Justin and Viv came to town. 

He kept typing until his eyelids drooped, until the words on the screen became blurred and sleep was beckoning to him. He went to close his laptop when a notification popped up. He’d received an email from a .edu address. Curious, he clicked the notification. 

> _ Dear Stephen,  _
> 
> _ Congratulations on your acceptance to Columbia University. We are pleased to offer you admission to the MD program at the Vagelos College of Physicians and Surgeons.  _ … 

  
  


The letter continued but Stephen kept reading the first lines over and over. He couldn’t fucking believe it -- he’d gotten accepted! His elation was mixed with equal amounts of fear and anxiety. He couldn’t wait to tell his parents just to get them to shut the fuck up. Donna would be ecstatic for him. Christine would probably throw a party. 

Despite all of the shit that happened earlier that evening, he couldn’t wait to tell Tony. 

_ It was finally happening _ .

He was going to medical school! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is nine million words long. Thought you'd murder me if I made it two chapters. I hope you hate Justin and Viv. 
> 
> Anyway, next chapter is all about ramifications. 
> 
> Leave a comment :)


	26. Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christine blabs, Tony doesn't show up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Trouble on my left, trouble on my right  
>  I've been facing trouble almost all my life  
> My sweet love, won't you pull me through?  
> Everywhere I look, I catch a glimpse of you  
> I said it was love and I did it for life  
> I didn't do it for you  
> _  
> \- Cage the Elephant

Tony looked like shit. 

Stephen found him in the alleyway behind  _ Bella’s _ , slumped against the brick wall while he chain smoked before the shift meeting. Dark shadows were under his eyes, his skin seemed pale, and he just looked completely miserable. Stephen noticed a slight tremor in his hand as he brought the cigarette to his lips. Withdrawal was a swift enemy. 

“Did you sleep?” Stephen pulled up a milk crate and sat next to him. Tony lazily rolled his neck to look at him.

“Not a wink.” His voice was scratchy, groggy. His normally radiant eyes seemed to lack their normal luster as he regarded Stephen through heavy lids. 

“How did it go?” Stephen asked, not sure if he wanted a true answer. He hadn’t gotten a text from Tony, not that he expected one. Just  _ sometimes _ Tony texted him when he was wasted and from the looks of it, Tony had one hell of a night. If he didn’t sleep, Stephen guessed he was up all night doing coke with those two idiots. 

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Tony said, his breath shuddering as he exhaled. He closed his eyes as he smoked his cigarette. Stephen was certain the rigidity of his winter coat was the only thing keeping him propped up straight. Tony probably felt Stephen staring at him and added, “And before you ask, there was no taint-licking of any kind.” 

Stephen might have smiled if Tony didn’t look like he was in so much pain. While it was definitely a question on his mind, he felt he was better off not knowing the explicit details. The only thing he truly cared about is if Tony sent Justin and Viv off with a good impression, whatever that meant. Or a bad impression? Fuck, he didn’t know. 

He didn’t want Tony to kill himself just to prove something to his father. The entire situation seemed manipulative and cruel. Why send them? What good would it do? Was it just to remind Tony how good life was, when in fact he was much healthier here? Justin and Viv lived recklessly and luxuriously. Stephen doubted they ever had sincere conversations and most of their time was spent trying to piece together their evenings. He hated them and wished they had never arrived.

He wanted to tell Tony about school in person. He debated on sending a text about it but it seemed like pretty big news — life-changing, even. It didn’t seem like the right time. 

“You going in?” Stephen checked his phone, it was almost time for his shift to start. 

“In a minute.” 

Stephen walked through the backdoor to see an elaborate flower arrangement sitting on the line and a fucking banner that read, “ _ Congratulations, Stephen! _ ” draped from the dish pit to the expediting station. 

“Congrats, motherfucker!” Sam hopped out from behind the banner and soon everyone else did, too. Clint and Rhodey had been hiding behind the grill, the servers slowly piled in from the dining room.

“What’s all this?” Stephen grinned as Christine handed him a bottle of whiskey.

“Christine blabbed,” Scott explained, “Congrats on getting into Columbia man, that’s huge!” 

“You arranged this but you couldn’t drive me to work? I see how it is,” Stephen said cheekily. 

“I had to pick up the flowers,” Christine shrugged, “And anyways, walking uphill builds character. You’re welcome.”

“Yes… thank you,” Stephen narrowed his eyes at her but she hugged him in response. 

“Congratulations on getting to leave this dump,” Bucky said, his voice completely monotone.  
“Hey, I take offense to that!” Pepper smacked him with her clipboard. “It’s not a _dump_ , it’s a very classy establishment --”

“I got a summer clinical internship, too,” Stephen offered, and he nearly jumped when he felt Tony come up behind him.

“So… you’ll be leaving earlier?” Tony’s voice seemed sad, and Stephen turned to look at him. He really did look terrible. 

“Yeah, first week of June,” Stephen said quietly, “I meant to tell you in private, I didn’t mean…”

“Oh, thank god, I thought you weren’t going to be here for graduation,” Pepper let out a loud sigh of relief. “I mean, I’m sorry you’re leaving at all. That goes for all of you.”

Graduation was the busiest time of the year for the restaurant and Pepper had been talking about it ever since Stephen started. People booked years in advance just to get a table anywhere, because all a sudden the town with thousands of students found itself flooded with thousands more family members. Graduation was even on an alternate weekend than the college on the south hill because the burden was so heavy. Pepper literally made Tony and the kitchen crew sign a contract saying they wouldn’t leave before graduation because having to train new people just for  _ that _ was just a recipe for disaster. 

Pepper led them out to the dining room and Bruce made a line of shot glasses on the bar. After everyone took a seat, Pepper began to speak.

“I don’t say it enough but I appreciate you guys. Some of you have been with me for years and I know you need to move on and make the world a better place or something, but just know that I’m extremely thankful for all of you, and I’m proud of you.”

“You can just thank us at the booze cruise,” Scott hollered, cupping his hand around his mouth.

“The what?” Stephen asked him.

“Pepper rents out a boat after graduation and we get drunk on it. What more explanation do you need?” Scott looked at him like he was a fucking idiot and Stephen had to admit that was a first. 

“Don’t say I never do anything nice for you,” Pepper walked over to the bar where Bruce had just finished pouring. “In honor of Stephen’s accomplishment, let’s take a shot. And if anything happens to any of you before graduation I will track you down and murder you.”

The liquor was dark and smelled faintly like licorice. When everyone had a glass, Pepper said, “ _ Cheers _ ”. It was aromatic and bitter, probably lower in alcohol, and he sputtered a little as it went down his throat. Stephen felt warm and fuzzy, and maybe it was just because he felt  _ happy _ \-- happy that he found a place where he felt he belonged, a place where he felt welcome. He was surrounded by friends and that was just an experience he’d never felt before. 

* * *

The next day was rough. The entire crew had gone out for drinks at Flanny’s to celebrate and they stayed to close the bar. For once, Pepper didn’t say anything about their hungover status but she  _ was _ irate that Tony never showed up for work. The cooks were an hour into their shift and by the time Stephen arrived, she was pacing angrily in the kitchen. 

“Has  _ anyone  _ heard from Tony?” She demanded as the servers began to clock in. “He’s late!”

Stephen looked around the kitchen as he shoved his coat in his locker. Everyone shook their heads, muttering replies. Pepper tapped her foot impatiently on the floor and then slowly, all eyes landed on him. 

“Why are you looking at me?” Stephen said in particular to Rhodey, who was looking at him accusingly. 

“Wasn’t he with you last night?” 

“No, I thought he went home with you guys,” Stephen shut his locker with a gentle  _ click _ . If Tony didn’t go home to the Tower, and he didn’t go home with Stephen… where the hell could he be?

The whole night was weird, admittedly -- he knew Tony felt like shit and he shouldn’t have felt any obligation to go out for drinks. He probably hadn’t slept in almost two days and Stephen should have suggested he go home. But it was a fucking  _ celebration _ and Tony never said ‘no’ to a party… Maria served them shots on the house and things quickly got rowdy from there. Stephen pounded drink after drink, and in retrospect, maybe he didn’t notice how weird Tony was being until he drove him home. 

That really should have been the first indicator something was wrong. Tony and Stephen always walked home, and Tony left his car on the street or in the garage downtown. He claimed he liked the exercise, it gave him an opportunity to clear his head even if there was a foot of snow. When they got to Stephen’s, Stephen asked him to come inside, but Tony just gave him a kiss and dropped him off in front of his apartment. What did he say? He said he needed to make a phone call. 

Stephen pouted as he drove away, absorbed in his own sense of pride and maybe he should have paid more attention. Hell, Tony probably shouldn’t have driven, even if he didn’t drink that much at the bar. If Stephen  _ had _ been paying attention, maybe he would have noticed that Tony nursed the same glass of scotch for three hours. 

“He’ll show up.” Rhodey shook his head and kept scrubbing the grill.

“I’m calling him,” Pepper announced, “If he doesn’t get here in the next fifteen minutes I’m calling Bucky.” 

“He’ll show up.” 

* * *

Pepper couldn’t get a hold of him and neither could Rhodey. Pepper could be heard cursing in her office, threatening to fire him if he didn’t show up. Tony was late on occasion, definitely, it was kind of his signature. But hours had passed, the night was half over, and no one had heard anything. Stephen was beginning to think he was dead in a ditch somewhere, so he shot him a text. 

  
  


**STEPHEN:**

Where are you?

Are you okay?

He waited. Maybe he went back to Viv and Justin’s hotel room, or maybe he just crashed at some friend’s house. Rhodey seemed to be the only other person slightly concerned for Tony’s wellbeing but he didn’t say anything to the crew. Pepper was too busy being pissed to be anything else and Stephen couldn’t wait to get out of work so he could give him a call. Hopefully he was just sleeping somewhere. 

**STEPHEN:**

I’m worried about you.

Stephen went straight home after work. It was hard to focus when Tony was completely MIA. No one’s calls had even gone through and the only solace Stephen had was that they had similar phones so Stephen could at least see that the messages had been delivered. He’d called as soon as he clocked out but it went straight to voicemail. He was crushed, listening to Tony’s cute voicemail message - “ _ Yo. You’ve reached Tony Stark. Suck it.”  _

For exactly one second he contemplated heading over to the Marriott and seeing if Justin and Viv were still there, if Tony was there. Maybe he could just call, but he wasn’t sure how much information the hotel would be able to give him. The thought made him want to vomit, really, and if Tony had gone right back to their hotel room maybe he didn’t want anyone chasing after him. Maybe he’d already made up his mind. 

It wasn’t until hours later that Stephen felt his phone vibrate. He’d fallen asleep with it clutched in his hands, hoping that Tony would send a response. 

**TONY:**

Don’t be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really tried to make this one chapter, I swear. But y'know... the next chapter is fairly important so might as well do it justice. Should be up tomorrow. 
> 
> Next chap: Where the hell is Tony? (:
> 
> Leave a comment!


	27. Bad Habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony falls into old habits; the gang is determined to find him. 
> 
> If you're sensitive to rampant drug use, I suggest you stop reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Maybe you love me cause I'm just another vice  
>  I chain smoke, drink too much  
> Lose my luck playing poker all night long  
> I'm such a mess  
> Stay up late, caffeine buzz  
> We've all got bad habits we don't want  
> I must confess that I'm one too  
> No good for you  
> _  
> \- The Federal Empire

**RHODEY:**

Did you hear from Tony?

**STEPHEN:**

One text. Told me not to be worried. 

**RHODEY:**

I’ll tell Pep. 

He called Tony again in the morning. Straight to voicemail. It wasn’t completely unusual for Tony to be away from his phone, but the fact that he missed the entire shift without telling anyone was worrying. Waking up to a text from Rhodey was also cause for concern -- that meant Tony didn’t go home last night, either. 

After he made himself a pot of coffee, he hunkered down at the kitchen island with his laptop. Maybe Tony was posting stories on his Instagram or something. He scoured the band’s page, Tony’s personal page. Nothing. 

His alarm only increased when he got to work and Bucky was in the kitchen, taking over for Tony again. Pepper called him into her office and he found himself crammed into the tiny space with her and Rhodey. Their knees practically touched as Pepper sat in her swivel chair and he and Rhodey stood elbow to elbow. 

“So I mean what is this?” Pepper asked, scrolling through her phone. Stephen could see several calls made to Tony and nothing returned. “Should we be worried? Should we be calling the police?”

“He’s not missing, he just doesn’t want to be found,” Rhodey folded his arms and leaned against Pepper’s desk. That wasn’t a good enough answer for Pepper. 

“If he’s going to hurt himself, I don’t care if he doesn’t want to be found,” She picked up her phone to dial him again. Ten seconds passed and Stephen heard Tony’s voicemail message play on her speaker. She slammed her phone down, irritated. “For heaven’s sake.” 

“What do you mean?” Stephen queried. What on earth made them think Tony was going to hurt himself? Like _hurt,_ like self-injure? Or simply be self-destructive? Maybe that meant the same thing but he hoped Tony still held some semblance of self-preservation. He couldn’t be a famous rock star if he was dead. 

“Do you think this is like… this is like last time?” Pepper ignored Stephen’s question, shooting a meaningful look at Rhodey. Their expressions had turned grave. 

“What do you _mean_?” Stephen repeated. He felt like Pepper and Rhodey were excluding him from the conversation on purpose. Pepper bit her lip and looked away.

“Tony loves drugs,” Rhodey stated after a moment. He took a deep breath and then continued to explain the situation to Stephen. “I mean usually he can handle it moderately, but all it takes is _one_ incident for him to go from being casual to him going fucking nuts. I’m not his mom, I can’t control what he puts in his body. But if he’s disappeared, he could be fucking loaded right now and we don’t know how to find him. We can’t help him if we don’t know where he is.”

One incident? Like the arrival of Viv and Justin, or maybe finding out Stephen was going to medical school after all? Tony had been put through the wringer these past few days and it was no wonder he needed to escape and cope. Stephen should have stopped him. He should have never let him go to the bathroom with Justin. He should have told him about Columbia as soon as he found out. He should have done a few things differently and the looks on Pepper’s and Rhodey’s faces said it all. Tony was in danger.

Pepper was searching on her computer for the number to the local police station when Stephen protested. 

“You can’t call the police.”

“Why the hell not?” She snapped. 

“If his father finds out --”

“For fuck’s sake,” Pepper said, exasperated. “What else are we supposed to do?”

“We go out looking after service,” Rhodey suggested, nodding his head as if to agree with himself. “Ask around. Check the bars, the liquor stores, the smoke shop. Ask if anyone’s seen him.”

“I like that idea,” Stephen agreed. Time was ticking but all of the people who cared about Tony were at _Bella_ ’s and they still had to open their doors. The meeting adjourned, Pepper reluctantly agreeing to their plan. Stephen sent Tony a text just in case. 

**STEPHEN:**

Can you tell me where you are?

Are you still in town?

Of course, nothing happened for an hour.

**TONY:**

I’m fine.

Sure he was. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


They spread out. After the kitchen closed up, Bucky, Clint, Sam and Rhodey took off to ask around uptown. They played a lot of gigs near the university so it would be a good place to start. Pepper, Rogers, and Bruce headed out for the outskirts of town, hitting up bars and venues like the Haunt and the Atomic Lounge. Stephen, Christine, Scott, and Nat took over the downtown area since they all lived within walking distance.

Stephen walked to the far end of the Commons. They had three hours until closing time and then they’d be shit out of luck. His first stop was O’Flanagans -- maybe there was a chance Tony went back the next day. Thankfully, Maria was working. But she hadn’t seen him, and neither did anyone else who worked there. 

He hit up the brewery and the former-strip-club-turned-dive bar. No one had seen him. He popped into the cinema, asked the kids working if he’d been around. Nope. He checked his phone to see if anyone was responding to the group text and they were striking out all over town. Rogers had nothing. Bucky had nothing. Pepper had nothing. Where the fuck could Tony have gone that no one had seen where he went?

**CHRISTINE** :

Liquor store on w. green st

Two handles of jim beam 

10AM

It was sort of a relief. That meant Tony was still in town. However, Stephen had never seen Tony ever drink bottom shelf liquor. That in and of itself was alarming. 

**CLINT:**

Bad news. Ran into sneaky pete. said tony bought the works

**ROGERS:**

What does that mean? Who is ‘Sneaky Pete’?

**SCOTT** :

Think drugs, Cap.

**STEPHEN** :

Are we talking uppers? Downers? Hallucinogens? 

Pills? Powder? Rocks? Weed? What

**CLINT** :

…

Yes?

**PEPPER:**

That’s a really diplomatic way of saying “all of the above”, isn’t it

**BUCKY** :

A+ for Pepper

Fuck. What the hell. So Tony had access to a plethora of drugs, two giant bottles of shitty liquor, and he wasn’t answering his phone. 

**ROGERS** :

I know this is time-sensitive but we should 

think about getting home. It’s starting to snow. 

Normally snow wouldn’t bother Stephen. But because of where the town was located, the average snowfall was almost twice that of his hometown in Nebraska. When it snowed, it fucking _snowed_. He checked his weather app. They were predicted to get eighteen inches of snow in the next twelve hours. 

**CHRISTINE** :

Rendezvous at our place if you want. 

I know I’m not sleeping

Nat picked them up at the edge of the Commons and drove them back to the apartment. She and Scott needed to move their cars for the impending parking ban. Clint and Sam took off to go question some of their music friends. The remainder of the crew slowly showed up at Stephen’s apartment and Christine made them hot toddies to warm them up. 

The wait was torturous. Tony still wasn’t answering his phone. Stephen was the only person who managed to get a response out of him and it took him hours to respond at best. They’d looked everywhere. They’d called everyone they knew. Now the snow was coming down fast, thick snowflakes piling up on the front steps, and Christine’s car was quickly getting blanketed in white. 

“I think we really need to call the cops,” Pepper reiterated firmly. “We don’t know where he is, he’s going to kill himself and it’s going to be on us.” 

“We can’t think like that,” Rhodey said softly. “We just keep calling. Keep texting. We’ll find him.” 

It was getting just past one and Stephen was exhausted. They sat in their living room, charging their phones, sipping their toddies. It was so quiet Christine put on the tv just to be distracted by some noise. Stephen’s phone buzzed and his heart leapt. 

**TONY:**

Maybe you should fuck someone else.

The fuck? He had to be wasted. There was no way Tony would send that message sober. He didn’t know what he was getting at, or how to respond. Any question that was too long wouldn’t garner a response. 

**STEPHEN:**

?

He watched the three little dots appear and disappear as Tony typed and deleted.

**TONY:**

I’m a piece of shit. 

I’m human trash.

ducking garbage

So he’d ingested a downer, maybe? A depressant? That could just be the whiskey talking. There probably wasn’t anything he could say to bring Tony out of this slump. 

**STEPHEN:**

No, you’re not. You’re an amazing human being who has so much to offer.

It took a few minutes for Tony to respond and Stephen was only comforted by the fact that he was lucid enough to text. 

**TONY:**

You don’t know me

You deserve better

I just want you to be happy

**STEPHEN:**

I’d be happier if I knew where you were

Stephen knew before he sent it that that would silence him. He regretted it immediately. He sent several texts in succession but of course Tony didn’t answer. Stephen called and again, Tony didn’t answer. 

“Fuck,” Stephen swore, letting his phone fall into his lap. He’d been doing so _well_ , Tony was texting back! “Fucking fuck.” 

“That was a good run,” Christine rubbed his back as they sat together on the couch. “It means he’s awake.”

“Yeah, but for how long?” 

* * *

Pepper was curled up in the arm chair, asleep. Christine was snuggled up to Stephen on the couch, scrolling through her phone endlessly. Rhodey sat on the other side of the couch staring at the tv, and Bucky had his head on his arms on the counter. Rogers had gone home (he was tired) and Bruce left as well, claiming if Pepper wasn’t going to be at work later that day, he could open for her. 

The mood was somber. Stephen and Rhodey didn’t dare look each other in the eye, didn’t dare express what was going through their minds. It’d been a couple of hours since they’d heard from Tony last. Christine let out a gasp of surprise and Pepper woke immediately. 

“What?” She said, pushing her blonde hair out of her face. “What happened?”

“Guys,” Christine held up her phone, turning up the volume. “He’s live-streaming!”

Pepper clambered onto the couch and they all crowded around Christine’s phone. 

“Does it show where he is?” She asked, but the answer was _no._

The camera focused on a nondescript background, simply a white sheet pinned to the wall. Tony’s keyboard piano was clearly visible in the foreground, as well his guitar which was propped up next to a stool. He stumbled into the frame, one of those handles of whiskey in his hand. It was half drunk. 

He was shirtless. Sweaty. His jeans hung off his hip bones and the waistband of his boxer briefs peeked out at the top. He sat roughly on the stool, taking a lit cigarette out of his mouth to take a long swig from the bottle. He looked at the camera curiously, almost like he’d forgotten what he was doing. Shaking his head, he took another drag of his cigarette.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, y’know? About life and stuff. Sometimes shit just fucking punches you in the face. And y’know, you say stuff and you think you really know somebody but you never really _do_ know someone, right? You’re never inside of their head. You’re only inside of _your_ head, and that’s a fucking tragedy.”

He was speaking at a million miles an hour and Stephen couldn’t help but notice he was constantly bouncing his leg, jittery. He blinked a lot, barely taking breaths between tangents. 

“So what do we have - the only way you can know someone is how you perceive their actions, but you never really know their intent. And anything can be misinterpreted. It is so _easy_ to take one moment and just blow it out of proportion and then you sit back and realize you really fuckin’ screwed the pooch on that one. And I mean… is there redemption? Is there a way to recover? And you can never take words back, take actions back.” 

What was he talking about? What had he messed up?

“And how much of it is beyond our control? Like, I believe in destiny as much as the next guy but _fuck_ . Things can seem so serendipitous but then you’re _you_ and they’re _them_ and I just can’t seem to do things differently. I fuck things up at every turn and staring down the barrel, it doesn’t seem like there’s an end in sight,” he paused to laugh at his own unintended joke. “Ha, in _sight_.”

He grabbed his guitar from behind him and began to tune it a little. 

“I know that was probably really fucking boring for all of you but I just had to say it. I had to put it out in the universe because life is too short, man. Things change so quickly and the next thing you know you’ve lost everything and it just seems like the world might be better off if you’re dead. Wouldn’t that be a fucking trip?”

His voice dripped with melancholy and ire. What did he mean ‘ _lost everything’_? Christ. Stephen wanted so desperately to find him, but they couldn’t tell anything based on the video. Even though it was three in the morning, there were a couple hundred viewers. They were sending emojis as comments, just saying hello, being kind. Stephen didn’t know how they didn’t understand that Tony was clearly going through something. Maybe all of his midnight sessions started out like this. 

“I wrote this a few days ago, but honestly… sometimes you just don’t know where you’re at, y’know? You tell someone how you feel and it’s like a fucking electromagnetic repulsion. Your words come zingin’ right back atcha and the next thing you know you’re both just moving on without ever saying the damn thing. So I don’t know, man. Fuck it.”

He stubbed the cigarette off screen and began to play his guitar. 

_Ignition on this wonderful night of submission_

_Do promises break when he's away from home?_

_Can I listen for the drag of the hands towards fission?_

_He's losing battles to tempting shadows when he's alone_

_For all that I know_

_You needed someone else to help you forget the reason_

_You fell for me at all, in this hell of a season_

_If I spend the night in the gaze of strange eyes_

_Would you mind, dear?_

_Oh, would you mind?_

_Look I get it_

_You ain't friends with the monsters in your head_

_I too am a sinner_

_But my sins ain't in your bed_

_You said before you felt lonely_

_So how does it feel now that you don't own me?_

_Cause if you needed someone else to help you fight off your demons_

_You're just a body, just a shell, just a heart that stopped beating_

_So when I spend the night in the gaze of strange eyes_

_Would you mind?_

_Oh, tell me would you mind?_

_Oh, would you mind?_

_Yes I know that you’ll mind_

Tony didn’t say anything when he finished. He put down his guitar and casually took out a small plastic bag filled with white powder. 

“He knows we can see him, right? Like the _whole world_ can see him,” Pepper said frantically. They watched in horror as he continued to cut up the white powder with a razor blade on the top of his keyboard. The comments on the livestream were going crazy (“ _This motherfucker about to do a line LMAO”_ ) and Stephen was texting him, hoping he would see it. Pepper was watching intently, her face full of concern. “This is unacceptable. He’s out of control.” 

Sure enough, Tony made three perfect lines of the white powder. Pepper turned away, flinching every time she heard him snort. 

“This is insane, we have to go find him,” She was shaking her head while the others kept watching. It was like witnessing a car crash. She couldn’t help but be pulled back to the screen, watching between gaps of her splayed fingers. After the last line Tony let out an animalistic growl, pounding his fist on the keyboard. He breathed for a moment, and then his head fell towards his chest. Pepper gasped. “Oh my fucking god.” 

He fell off the stool and Christine screamed, almost dropping her phone. He must have kicked whatever the camera was on because all of a sudden it was looking at the ceiling. The comments were still coming in (“ _Dude you alive, bro?”_ and “ _OMFG is he okay??_ ”) and Stephen hopped off the couch.

For most of the video the background had been obstructed. When the camera fell, Stephen saw a familiar ceiling -- all reclaimed wood beams reaching towards a disco ball in the center. 

“We have to go, now,” Stephen zipped up his coat and checked his phone. Nothing. “And I know exactly where he is.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Song** :  
> Would You Mind by Friday Pilots Club  
> (with lyrics edited because why tf would Tony be singing about a lady rn)
> 
> Where is he? :)  
> Next chap: Rhodey, Pepper, and Stephen pile into Bucky's truck to find Tony in the middle of a snow storm. 
> 
> Leave a comment. Love hearing your theories and things you liked best. Update soon. 🖤


	28. broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang finds Tony! A surprise awaits them at the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _I like that you're broken  
>  Broken like me  
> There's something tragic, but almost pure  
> Think I could love you, but I'm not sure  
> _  
> \- lovelytheband

In a flurry of winter coats, hats, gloves, and scarves, they scrambled down the front steps to their cars. They agreed to take Bucky’s truck, the only vehicle capable of driving through thick snow and on unplowed roads. Christine opted to stay behind, simply because there wasn’t enough room for all of them  _ plus _ Tony. She waved them off, shovel in hand, and made them promise to call as soon as he was safe. 

The radio was blaring as they got in the car and Stephen hastily shut it off. He couldn’t bear to listen to heavy metal or whatever the fuck Bucky was listening to. His heart was beating quickly in his chest and he just wanted to transport himself to Tony’s side. The roads were slick with sleet and snow, and more than once they felt the sudden jerk as the tires lost their traction. 

“I should be driving, I know where it is,” Pepper harped from the backseat. She was crammed back there with Rhodey. 

“ _ No one drives my truck _ ,” Bucky growled. “And you can just use your words, you know. Tell me where it is.”

They were headed to Thor’s cabin. How many people had disco balls hanging from their ceilings in this day and age? It was a guess, but it was the best guess that they had. It sort of made sense -- the cabin was isolated, abandoned, and maybe it meant something to Tony like it did to Stephen. He didn’t remember it in excruciating detail, but how could he forget the first place they ever kissed?

The cabin was just on the outskirts of town, nestled on a hill on an unpaved road. It was closer to the hospital than the downtown area, so that was the only plus. The tension in the cab only increased as Bucky headed north. 

“Oh, you’re taking this route?” Pepper chided and Stephen watched Bucky clench his hands around the steering wheel. 

“Well, which is it, Potts? Faster to take Taughannock or Trumansburg?”

“Trumansburg,” she said, and Bucky wildly turned the steering wheel. Stephen felt his life flash before his eyes as the car careened through an intersection, making a sharp turn as Bucky changed directions. Despite the progressively worsening weather conditions, Bucky pressed the gas pedal to the floor and they barrelled ahead. 

A lump formed in his throat as he thought about what they might be walking into. Was Tony still alive? The fear crept over his skin like acid and the possibilities made him feel sick to his stomach. He could have prevented this. He could have done  _ something _ . If Pepper felt guilty it was nothing compared to what Stephen was feeling. 

As they left town the roads became increasingly difficult to navigate. The plows weren’t keeping up with the snowfall (or maybe they weren’t even out this far?) and Bucky shifted the truck into a lower gear. Stephen felt like time was crawling as he stared into the vortex of oncoming snow. He could hear Pepper huffing impatiently in the backseat, each draw of breath causing Bucky’s eye to twitch with irrational anger. 

“We should call an ambulance,” Pepper announced. It seemed like the truck wasn’t even moving but the low rumble from Bucky’s engine proved otherwise. 

“Seriously? That’s like a thousand dollars,” Rhodey shot down her suggestion, disapproval clear in his voice. 

“What?”

“The ambulances here are privatized,” he said matter-of-factly. 

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Pepper muttered under her breath. 

“We don’t even know for sure if he’s there,” Stephen added, and with a flippant tap on Bucky’s arm, he urged, “Just drive faster.”

“Yes, I’d love to  _ drive faster _ in a fucking snow storm,” Bucky said sarcastically. “Will you just cool your nuts? I’m trying to get us there alive.” 

They slid onto the dirt road, climbing the slow incline and Bucky shifted down once more to divert more power to the wheels. The snow-laden boughs of the pine trees seemed to mock them as they drove steadily by, forming an Alice in Wonderland-like display. They were almost there. 

When they were within a hundred feet, Stephen leapt from the car amidst his coworkers’ protests. He couldn’t wait any longer. He trudged through the thick snow, elated to see Tony’s Range Rover parked haphazardly out front. He was  _ here. _

The front door was locked. He wiggled the handle furiously, hoping it was just frozen shut but it didn’t have any give. It was a simple metal latch but the other side must have been hooked shut. 

“Tony!” He hollered, pounding his fists on the heavy wooden door. “ _ Tony _ !” 

He threw himself against the door. He was so close, so close! His shoulder began to ache as he put his entire body weight into each jump. He had to get through, he needed to. He let out a scream of frustration when he heard Rhodey’s voice. 

“Out of the way, man, I got this!” Rhodey was wielding a metal shovel and as soon as Stephen stepped out of the way, he attacked the simple handle with the tip of the blade, grunting with the force of his efforts. After a few tries, the latch gave way and Stephen snaked his fingers through the slim opening to unhook the inner lock.

The inside of the cabin was dark and cold. The only light came from a single lamp in the far corner of the room where Tony’s keyboard was set up. He could see Tony’s form sprawled on the ground. Stephen raced across the dancefloor, the only sound he could hear was the blood thumping in his own ears.

“Tony,” His name came out of his lips like a whispered prayer, “Please.” 

He flipped Tony onto his back and pressed his fingers into his neck, trying to find the carotid artery. There was a pulse present -- weak, but present! He began to rub circles on Tony’s sternum, tapping his cheek with his other hand. 

“Wake up, wake up, honey,” he said in his best soothing voice. He was trembling, he knew it, but he couldn’t stop the more he looked at the man splayed before him. His skin was cold, clammy, and his lips were tinted with the faintest hint of blue. He needed oxygen. He needed help. He needed to wake the fuck up. “Tony, c’mon.” 

He tilted Tony’s head back gently and a raspy moan came out of his mouth. He could see Tony’s eyes moving rapidly behind his closed lids, but he couldn’t muster enough energy to open his eyes.

“C’mon, baby. Let me see those pretty eyes,” Stephen encouraged. Pepper was on his other side, massaging Tony’s chest as tears poured down her face. He could vaguely hear her biting back her sobs. Tony’s eyes fluttered open briefly and Stephen could have screamed. 

“Let’s get him in the truck,” Bucky commanded, marching over to Tony’s feet. “We can’t wait any longer.” 

  
  


Tony’s head was cradled in Stephen’s lap as Bucky tore down the road. Stephen had wrapped his own coat around him -- they didn’t take any time to search the cabin to see where Tony’s belongings were. He couldn’t stop touching him, squeezing him. He wanted to keep circulation going, and he kept stroking Tony’s cheek to keep him awake. Tony moaned and groaned, kicking his legs pathetically. Pepper had his legs propped up on her knees and she dutifully rested her elbows on top of him. 

“We’re taking you to the hospital,” Stephen narrated anyway, not sure if Tony could hear him or not. “We’re going to get you better, okay?” 

He pet Tony’s face, wondering if he could feel the coolness of his fingertips. Tony’s brow was furrowed, his face contorted with pain and exhaustion and Stephen would have given him anything to relieve him of his agony. He kept speaking to him in dulcet tones, coaxing him to stay awake while he squirmed on top of their laps. 

As soon as Bucky pulled underneath the emergency room awning, he put the truck into park abruptly. Opening Stephen’s door, he grabbed Tony underneath the armpits and hoisted him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He ran towards the front doors and the others quickly followed suit. It all seemed to be a blur, one minute Bucky was hollering at the staff and the next he flopped Tony’s body onto a gurney. Tony quickly disappeared through double swinging doors, but not before Rhodey handed an orderly a small plastic bag. 

“What the fuck was that?” Pepper hit Rhodey with the back of her hand as the orderly escaped down the hallway. “You should have flushed those down the toilet! Are you trying to get him arrested, too?” 

“They don’t know what he took, we don’t know what he took,” Rhodey explained calmly, “It was strictly precautionary. And besides, they’ll only arrest you for possession of amounts beyond personal use and after I sifted through it, yeah, I think he’ll be fine. Relax.” 

“ _ Relax _ ?” Pepper was practically foaming at the mouth and it looked like she wanted to backhand Rhodey across the face. 

“You need a cigarette,” Bucky grabbed both of her shoulders and steered her back towards the entrance. Rhodey and Stephen settled into the waiting room, listening to her rant and rave the whole way. 

  
  


Stephen was lightly dozing when he heard someone clear their throat. He looked up to see an orderly standing there, expectant. 

“He’s stable,” they said.   
“Oh, thank god,” Pepper shifted in her seat beside him, suddenly attentive. “When can we see him?”

“You can see him now, just one at a time.” 

Without stealing a glance at the others, Pepper rose out of her chair and followed the orderly down the hallway. Stephen was too tired to protest. It didn’t matter who saw him first or in what order. The important thing was that Tony was okay. For now. 

“Thank god, huh?” Rhodey said as the swinging doors stilled. Bucky was still passed out, sprawled across three chairs.

“That was close. Too close,” Stephen nodded. He was scrolling through his phone, checking the responses from the group text and from Christine. She was the only one who answered immediately. Everything could have happened so differently if they didn’t find him. The worst could have happened, and Stephen never would have forgiven himself if it did. But Tony had never given an indication that he was in danger, how was Stephen supposed to know? He tore at the corner of the newspaper he’d been pretending to read. “I didn’t even know he had a drug problem.”

“He usually doesn’t,” Rhodey confirmed in his nonchalant way. “It’s just… I don’t know, the last time was because of Howard, so… I don’t know.” 

“Do you think he did something?” 

“I guess we won’t know until Tony says something,” Rhodey shrugged and went back to perusing his out-dated  _ Lifestyle _ magazine. 

As if time couldn’t pass slowly enough, Stephen watched the second hand tick as he waited for Pepper to be done visiting Tony. His neck was beginning to cramp from sitting at a peculiar angle in his chair and he readjusted. They’d only been at the hospital for a couple of hours. Soon, the sun would be up and the day would start like nothing ever happened. 

The orderly wasn’t allowed to tell them anything about Tony’s condition, so they were going to be in the dark until Tony filled them in… if he wanted to. As much as he wanted Tony to have his privacy, he wanted to know exactly what he’d taken, what’d he’d drunk (though he could hazard a guess) and what drove him to do so. 

It was reckless. It was stupid. It was exactly what Justin and Viv had been talking about but Tony hid himself away so no one could help him. Was it a deathwish? And what did Tony’s texts mean?  _ I’m a piece of shit. I’m human trash. You don’t know me. You deserve better _ . The optimist within Stephen could chalk all of those up to Tony being extremely inebriated if not straight up delusional. 

Stephen juggled with the justification in his mind. Maybe Tony wasn’t a saint but that didn’t make him an outright bad person. He had his faults, he was flaky as all fuck, but he was wildly passionate and compassionate, even. He looked out for his friends and whatever he was working on, he did well. He certainly had a chip on his shoulder but Stephen supposed he would, too, if he was raised by Tony’s father. 

Pepper made her way through the swinging doors just in time. Stephen was tempted to barge in there because she was taking so long. She stole a glance at the boys in the waiting room and made a beeline for the women’s restroom.

He got to his feet, his leg slightly numb. He didn’t know what he was going to say to Tony. Should he express his relief? His concern? Would he want to be kissed? The orderly directed him to Tony’s room and Stephen’s breath shuddered as he crossed the threshold. 

He was so happy to see Tony, even if he was donning a hospital gown and looked so small in the hospital bed. Tony’s eyes lit up as Stephen approached and Stephen was ready to throw all caution out the window when he heard someone cough. 

In the corner of the room stood a strange man. He was still wearing his wool coat, hints of snow still melting on his lapel. Even though he was middle-aged, he still had a youthful look about him. He held a penetrating gaze and as Stephen looked him over, he couldn’t deny that the resemblance was uncanny. 

He removed his gloves and held a hand out for Stephen to shake.

“I’m Howard Stark. How do you know my son?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chap: the fallout. Will Stephen be able to muster up the strength to finally tell Tony how he feels? 
> 
> You guys are the best commenters ever, thank you! 
> 
> So... do what you do best! Update soon :)


	29. Say The Word / I See You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part I: The Howard Problem  
> Part II: The Tony Problem
> 
> Stephen slowly picks apart Tony's motivations and the truth is completely unraveled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one! Betcha thought I'd disappeared, huh? In an effort to keep this fic in the ballpark chapter length, you may get longer chapters just so you're not left hanging. Enjoy!

**Say the Word**

_ Oh, if I could live a day seeing the world through your eyes _

_ Walk the earth inside your shoes and I would wear your disguise _

_ Maybe I would understand the fear that lives in your mind _

_ And tell you that you're not alone _

_ So say the word _

_ One call and I'll be there _

_ Say the word _

_ And I'm by your side _

\- Livingston

  
  
  


“We’ve been over this!” Tony cleared his throat loudly from the bed. Howard was standing nose to nose with Stephen, demanding to know exactly who he was. Tony had, apparently, already briefed his father on who was in the waiting room. “This is  _ Stephen _ , he’s the one who found me. We work together.”

“Did you give him the drugs?” Howard asked point blank, his stare unwavering. Stephen could hear Tony huffing from the bed.

“He doesn’t  _ do drugs _ \--”

“He can speak for himself,” Howard snapped, briefly glancing at his son. 

“No, I didn’t,” Stephen piped up, finally. He was so excited and nervous to see Tony he didn’t realize he’d walked into a veritable minefield. 

“Did you know about this?” Howard was staring down his nose at Stephen again, his voice accusatory and cold.

“Dad --”

“ _ No _ ,” Stephen asserted himself, hoping if he squared his shoulders slightly he’d feel like he was on even ground. Howard was shorter than Stephen, but it sure didn’t feel like it. 

“Would you leave him alone?” Tony demanded, “I take full responsibility for my actions. Kindly fuck off.”

It was awkward. Howard wasn’t blinking at all, and Stephen didn’t dare breathe. Howard was studying his face, maybe searching for a clue about Stephen’s psyche or character. He was suspicious, and Stephen didn’t blame him. He  _ did _ oppose being treated like a specimen under a microscope. 

Tony launched a magazine from his bedside, smacking Howard on the shoulder. 

“I said  _ fuck off, _ Howard!” Tony said bitterly, and Stephen watched as Howard’s jaw tensed. He narrowed his eyes at Stephen. 

“I have to make a phone call,” He grit out between clenched teeth. 

“Perfect, now get out.”

Howard didn’t get out. He simply walked to the corner of the room, turning his back to the boys, and dialed his phone. Stephen let out the breath he’d been holding and walked to Tony’s bedside. It was almost like they were alone, with one giant elephant in the room.

“I guess this means you won’t be at trivia tonight?” He said lightly, squeezing Tony’s hand. He wanted to caress his face, feel his warm skin. He could hear Howard muttering in the background.

Tony stifled a laugh. “Ha! No.” 

“I just wanted to check in on you, see how you were feeling --” Stephen started.

“I’m fine,” Tony waved him off. Stephen knew Tony was the first one to be dismissive of feelings. Truthfully, he was a terrible liar. Stephen didn’t press him, though, and let him continue.“Your coat is in that cabinet, in that bag.” 

Tony pointed and Stephen took that as his cue to exit.“Oh, cool.”

He walked over to the cabinet and unfurled his coat from the plastic bag, carefully replacing Tony’s belongings on the shelf. Howard was pacing at this point, keeping an eye peeled on the boys’ interactions. With one meaningful look at Tony, Stephen gave him a small smile and turned to leave the room.

“Stephen?” Tony called out, tilting his head on the pillow. “Thanks.” 

“Anytime,” Stephen said, and after a severe glare from Howard, added, “I mean, you’re welcome.” 

He couldn’t leave the room fast enough. As soon as he got into the hallway, he heard the door close behind him. Raised voices followed him down the hallway and he knew Tony and Howard were going at it. He clutched his coat, twisting it, straining the taffeta fabric. His breath was coming out in near gasps as he approached the double doors and it took all of his willpower to not shout when he saw Pepper sitting near Bucky, idly twirling his hair in her hands. 

“ _ You called Howard _ ?” His voice was already too loud for the receptionist at the desk, who shushed him like a school librarian. Pepper pushed Bucky out of her lap, standing to meet Stephen as he stalked towards her. 

“What was I supposed to do? That’s his  _ son _ !” 

“It’s not any of your business!” Stephen growled. He could feel his hands shaking, his whole body tense as he resisted the urge to push Pepper to the ground. 

“I am  _ his manager  _ and this was an emergency!” She argued, her voice getting higher. “He could have died!”

“But he didn’t,  _ did he _ ?”

“You’re out of your mind!” Pepper’s bright blue eyes stayed fixed on his face, he couldn’t escape her. “I made the right call and I’m sticking by it.” 

“You don’t know what you’ve done,” Stephen ran his hands through his hair. How could she be so naive? The  _ last thing _ Tony needed was for Howard to be here. Hadn’t they avoided calling the cops for this reason? What right did Pepper think she had, sticking her nose in what was clearly Tony’s personal business? 

“He needs help, and  _ clearly _ , we are not equipped to handle him! Howard  _ is _ ,” She placed a hand delicately on Stephen’s forearm and he ripped away. He couldn’t stand to look at her. “I know you care about him just as much as I do, but I promise you, I did this for him.” 

Stephen let her words hang in the air. Rhodey and Bucky stood between them, waiting for the first fist to go flying. After collecting his thoughts, Stephen turned to give Pepper a piece of his mind but he found Bucky’s strong hands leading him to the emergency room entrance. 

“ _ You _ need a cigarette,” Bucky patted him on the shoulder and steered him towards the automatic doors. 

“I don’t smoke,” Stephen frowned, but Bucky was undeterred. 

“Put on your coat,” he said, completely calm. “Today you do.” 

  
  


The snow storm was still in full swing. Stephen was thankful he didn’t have a nicotine habit, it better be fucking worth it to walk through blinding snow to get to Bucky’s truck. He was grateful when they got inside of the truck, less thankful when Bucky lit up and didn’t open a window. Immediately the cabin was filled with putrid smoke. 

Bucky handed him a cigarette and Stephen tried to subtly roll down his passenger side window. It was like smoking a joint, right? Wrong. He took a long drag and coughed, feeling like he was choking. His eyes watered as Bucky laughed and thumped him on the back. He didn’t say anything, didn’t ask Stephen to talk. He simply took the cigarette out of Stephen’s hand and when he was finished smoking the first one, he smoked Stephen’s, too. 

Maybe Stephen didn’t get to feel the serenity that smokers supposedly experienced (though from what he’d read it was truly the opposite, nicotine was actually anxiety inducing) but he felt slightly more relaxed. It was nice to get out of the hospital, nice to freeze his ass off and choke on Bucky’s second hand smoke. He needed to get away from Pepper before he said anything he was going to regret. 

Rhodey was visiting Tony when Bucky and Stephen shuffled back inside. Stephen didn’t envy him, who knows what kind of shouting match he had walked into. Bucky left to go inspect the vending machines. Stephen sat a few seats away from Pepper, neither acknowledging the other’s presence. They could agree to disagree on how the situation was handled, but they were both there for Tony. 

A few minutes later, Rhodey came back to the waiting room. Bucky had zero interest in seeing Howard and he was sure Tony would forgive him for not saying ‘hello’. They needed a game plan. They didn’t know how long Tony was going to be in the hospital, and frankly, they needed to get on with their days. The restaurant still needed to open. A tentative plan was formed -- Pepper would be the one to speak with Howard, find out how long Tony was going to be in the hospital. Depending on the answer, everyone would go back to the Tower except for one person, who would remain with Tony. The boys were about to split off to the cafeteria when two security guards sprinted through the lobby, barreling through the swinging doors to the emergency wing. 

“You don’t think…” Pepper said slowly, and upon reading the other’s faces they silently agreed. Yes, yes they did think those guards were running towards Tony’s room. Stephen barely registered the protests of the receptionist as they all raced by. He could hear Tony’s voice from the end of the hallway, screaming, raw, full of hatred. Howard’s voice thundered in response and they heard a loud  _ CRASH _ . 

The security guards edged into the room and Stephen was right behind them. Howard stood at the foot of the bed, and Tony was throwing anything he could get his hands on. Stephen was taken aback by the bright red staining Tony’s gown -- had he been stabbed??

“ _ You’re a fucking bastard! _ ” Tony hollered, hurling a metal tray at his father’s head. “ _ You worthless sack of shit, fucking cocksucking shitfuck _ \--” 

“Won’t you restrain him? He’s being unreasonable!” Howard shouted at the guards, who tried to approach Tony. 

“Hahaha  _ I’m  _ being unreasonable?” Tony laughed maniacally and Stephen got a good glimpse of the source of the blood. He’d ripped out his peripheral venous catheter, the line to the IV hanging limply from the metal stand. Tony clutched his arm in between throwing things and pointing his hand accusingly at his father. “I think I’m the only sane one in the family!  _ Who fucking pays people off like that _ ?”

Stephen battled his way into the room, pushing past nurses scrambling to get in. The guards were slowly advancing on Tony, getting a grip on his flailing form only for Tony to go limp as a noodle and slipping out of their arms. It might have been funny to watch if Tony wasn’t getting blood absolutely  _ everywhere _ . 

“You’re a disgrace,” Howard had his hands on his hip, watching the debacle unfold. Tony was still shouting obscenities as the guards wrestled him to the floor. Finally, a doctor arrived and commanded everyone to leave. Stephen felt Pepper yank at his sleeve. Tony was losing consciousness, no doubt from the sporadic and unchecked blood loss. 

“He’ll be fine,” A nurse assured them as she pushed them out of the room. “Everyone just needs to leave, now. Including you, Mr. Stark.” 

If looks could kill, the nurse would have been slaughtered where she stood. Howard’s outrage was tangible, and Pepper quickly released her grip on Stephen’s shirt. 

“Meet you in the waiting room,” she muttered into Stephen’s ear before she left his side, swiftly walking up to the boiling Stark senior. “Come with me, Mr. Stark!”

She guided him by the elbow down the opposite end of the hallway and Stephen felt Rhodey throw his arm around his shoulders. 

“Let’s go, let’s go,” Rhodey urged, Stephen’s knees knocked together as they walked. What the  _ fuck _ had just happened? Tony and Howard were like an oil fire and water. Fucking explosive. Howard should never have been allowed in the hospital, let alone in the same room. Stephen should have never left his side… 

  
  


An hour later, Pepper strode through the swinging doors looking slightly less tall than before. She’d been crying. Pulling her coat closer to her body, she sniffled as she addressed the boys. Howard had left. The snowfall was finally slowing and Pepper walked him to the rooftop. Stephen rolled his eyes when he heard that -- leave it to a Stark to arrive in something as grandiose as a fucking helicopter. 

Despite the incident with the security guards, Tony was able to leave after he finished a proper round of fluids. Pepper said everything had been squared away, paper-wise, and she asked if Stephen would stay. Of course he would. She handed him twenty dollars for a cab ride to the Tower. 

Pepper let him know that Wanda was going to cover his shift for that evening, but he’d need to work the day after. With an apologetic hug, she left with Rhodey and Bucky. There was a lot to do at the Tower before Tony arrived home. 

  
  


“So…” Stephen thrummed his fingers absentmindedly on his thigh. He had his legs propped up on the corner of Tony’s bed. An uneasy silence had settled between them as Tony stared longingly at his IV drip, willing the bag to drain faster. 

“So what?” Tony snapped, annoyed. Stephen’s lack of response spurred him to cross his arms, looking away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Stephen supposed it would be easier removing teeth from a tiger in heat than getting Tony to talk. He had several questions, though. The least Tony could do is answer just one. He waited a few minutes -- listened to the gentle hum of the machines in the room, the ticking of the clock on the wall. The IV bag was still at least half full. They had a couple of hours to go, at least.

“Can you tell me what happened with Justin and Viv?” He asked as Tony flipped through the TV channels at lightning speed. There seemed to be about five channels and Tony huffed every time it landed on something he didn’t like. When Stephen cleared his throat, Tony slammed down the remote and glared. 

“I told them to fuck off.” 

He kept changing the channels, finally settling on an episode of  _ Antiques Roadshow _ . Stephen thought it an odd choice but he didn’t express his judgment. Instead, they sat in stubborn silence. He knew Tony wouldn’t volunteer information about what happened with his father -- the wound was too fresh, literally. What Stephen really wanted to know was why Tony went on the bender in the first place. Justin and Viv could be blamed for the start of it, definitely. But Tony was “sober” enough to go to work the next day, and then he just… disappeared. What made Tony fly off the deep end?

“Was it… was it because of me?” Stephen wondered aloud, several minutes later.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Tony scoffed. He turned off the tv and reclined his bed, blankly staring at the ceiling. Whatever the reason was, Stephen was going to find out, come hell or high water. 

  
  


They didn’t talk when Tony got discharged. They didn’t talk during the cab ride to the Tower. They didn’t talk as Tony climbed into bed, turning off the light in his bedroom, even though it was barely four in the afternoon. 

Pepper had done good. Stephen didn’t doubt that Rhodey and Bucky went to bed as soon as they got home, they still had to work -- but Pepper was a fucking powerhouse. She cleaned the kitchen, the bathroom, Tony’s bedroom. Stephen didn’t think he’d ever seen the mirror so clear in the bathroom. The fridge was stocked with food, real food (like vegetables?) and a fresh first-aid kit was left underneath the bathroom sink. 

While part of it was that the boys lived in a fucking pig sty, the other part was Pepper was searching. Stephen knew she had gone through every single cupboard, cabinet, and closet. She’d pawed through all of Tony’s drawers searching for his stash or a hidden bottle of liquor. It would only take one thing to make Tony fall back into it and the last few hours would all be for nothing. 

Stephen made up the couch in the dining room. It was a little cramped, yeah, but he didn’t want to impede on Tony’s personal space. He just wanted Tony to know that he was there if he needed anything. He fell asleep after he cooked a meager dinner, only to be woken a few hours later by the rest of the crew arriving home. They’d stayed out later than normal, knowing it would be a bad idea to drink at home. Instead, they crashed into the Tower after one in the morning, trying to be careful as they stomped up the stairs. 

It sucked. Stephen wondered how Tony was doing up there, if he was sleeping at all. Would he be up late writing song lyrics? Would he be playing around on his guitar? He wanted to check but he knew Tony needed his space. If he needed anything, Stephen would be there. All he needed to do was call. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

**I See You**

_ I see you when you're down _

_ And depressed, just a mess _

_ I see you when you cry _

_ When you're shy _

_ When you want to die _

_ I see you when you smile _

_ It takes a while _

_ At least you're here _

\- Missio

“Oh, thank god you’re back,” Tony grabbed Stephen by the face and planted a sloppy kiss on his lips. This wasn’t exactly the welcome Stephen was expecting. He’d left the Tower to go to work, but he felt Tony was still incredibly vulnerable and in need of supervision. He called the only person who wasn’t working -- Scott Lang. 

Scott had showed up promptly, a pile of DVDs in his backpack and a gallon of fruit punch in his fist. He mentioned that he always loved babysitting and Stephen tried not to read too much into that comment. He could hear Tony complaining as he left, and he had to admit he kind of deserved it. Not that Scott was bad company, not at all. Tony just found him annoying, sometimes. 

“Get out, Lang. Your services are now rendered obsolete,” Tony snapped his fingers impatiently and Scott scrambled off the foot of Tony’s bed, clutching his tablet.

“But we didn’t even finish  _ Supertroopers _ , it was just getting to the good part,” Scott pouted, and Tony shut him up with a look.

He kissed Stephen again, dragging a finger across his lips. He whispered, “I was about to kill myself.”

“That’s not funny,” Stephen pushed him off and unbuttoned his work shirt. He could hear Scott still talking but Tony shoved him into the hallway and closed his bedroom door. 

“Lighten up, Stephen. I was just cracking a joke,” Tony smiled and Stephen wasn’t having it. 

“Is everything a joke to you?”

  
  


Work had been difficult. He worried about Tony the entire time, but was relieved he’d gotten texts from both Scott and Tony over the course of the evening. Scott explained, in excruciating detail, the agenda for their super-sober-siesta. He’d brought a litany of movies, none of which Stephen thought Tony would be interested in. He brought card games and  _ Yahtzee! _ . The texts from Tony told the other side of the story: 

**TONY:**

Dear God he put on Jack and Jill

Can you stop by campus and find Sneaky Pete? I need something

WHO LIKES ADAM SANDLER THIS MUCH

WHY

The others were concerned, understandably. He thanked Wanda for covering his shift and she let him know she could cover any time. It was sweet, but if he took off more time he wouldn’t be able to pay rent. There was enough of them that Tony wouldn’t ever have to be alone, at least for the week off that Pepper had given him. 

Stephen didn’t even know if that was enough time. How much time did someone need to recover from a near-overdose? The doctors had said he collapsed from mere exhaustion. He had a concoction of drugs in his system but it really was the alcohol that brought him down. It was sort of a relief. Stephen guessed that Rhodey had flushed the majority of the other drugs down the toilet and Tony had purchased them, but never got around to using them. But why did he feel the need to buy them at all? 

Tony continued to tiptoe around Stephen’s questions, constantly redirecting the conversation when things got too serious. He’d been locked in the bedroom with Scott since Stephen left for work and he was dying to get down to the studio and fiddle around. Stephen played with his phone, sipping a glass of water while Tony played with every single instrument. 

Stephen woke in the middle of the night. The house was eerily quiet, the only sounds he could hear was the wind whistling outside and the gentle clicking sound of the baseboard heaters. He didn’t wake up when the other boys came home, and they must have because his phone told him it was just after three in the morning. 

He knew he didn’t have anything to worry about. When Tony went to bed he was in relatively good spirits, kissing Stephen on the forehead and tapping the top of his hair. He didn’t know why but he felt the urge to go check on Tony, just to make sure he was sleeping soundly. He crept up the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky steps, feeling his way up with one hand locked on the guardrail. He heard faint snores coming from Bucky’s bedroom, the only door to be left slightly ajar. 

Reaching the end of the hallway, he pushed Tony’s door open. Moonlight poured in from the windows and as Stephen’s eyes readjusted, he realized the room was a fucking disaster. He turned the lamp on Tony’s bed stand and looked around.

The bed was empty. Clothes strewn everywhere. Bookshelf torn apart. Random tubs were pulled out from Tony’s closet and out from under his bed. The mattress was shifted off of its base and that’s when Stephen realized -- Tony was looking for his stash. Panicking, he ran down the stairs at top speed. He turned the light on in the kitchen and every single cabinet was open, pots and pans strewn across the linoleum floor. Thank fuck Pepper was extremely thorough. But where was Tony?? 

As Stephen glanced around the kitchen, something out the front window caught his eye. A dim light was coming from the garage. Pepper had gone through the entire house, but did she check the garage? There was no reason for Tony to be out there, his car was still at Thor’s and Bucky was working on the tour van at the shop he worked at. However… it was the perfect place to hide something. Stephen dashed out the front door, grabbing his coat from the breakfast nook and trudging through the thick snow. 

Stephen approached the garage, his heart filled with fear and trepidation. His brain was repeating _whatthefuckwhatthefuck_ and he was angered thinking about just what Tony might be doing. Sure enough, as he pushed the door open to the garage, the sounds of _Harry Belafonte_ permeated the small space and Tony was dancing around in his flannel bathrobe, a bottle of scotch in one hand, a cigarette in the other. Stephen knocked over an empty plastic bottle and Tony looked at him, surprised.   
“Hey, it’s you!” Tony grinned, and while he was a drunk, he was a generous drunk. He took a swig from the bottle and held it out briefly for Stephen to take a drink, too. But then Stephen marched towards him, his anger clear on his face, and Tony shied away to the corner of the garage. 

“What the  _ hell _ do you think you’re doing?” Stephen roared. 

“I think it’s pretty clear --”

“For fuck’s sake, Tony!” Stephen quickly cleared the space between them and ripped the half-drunk bottle of scotch out of Tony’s hands. “Can’t you be sober for twenty four hours?!” 

“C’mon, give that back,” Tony whined, reaching out to Stephen like a baby demanding its bottle. Stephen stomped out of the garage and when he found a nice looking patch of snow-covered ground, dumped the contents of the bottle. 

Tony quickly followed him, dropping to his knees when he saw what Stephen was doing.

“WHY? GOD, WHY?” He cried out dramatically. He faux-wept for his amber-colored companion. Stephen began marching back towards the garage and Tony jumped up, suddenly agile, and sprinted ahead of him. He slammed the garage door shut and Stephen saw him throwing things in all directions. 

As Stephen got back into the garage, the back door was open, and Tony was nowhere to be seen. He carefully stepped over all the crap Tony had just tossed onto the floor and exited the back where he saw Tony backing up, chugging yet another bottle, holding up his finger to Stephen as if to say  _ one moment, please _ . 

Stephen lunged for him, yanking the bottle out of his hand and throwing it as far as he could, practically dislocating his own shoulder in the process. The bottle landed quietly in the distance, muffled by feet of snow and he heard Tony let out a strangled cry as he clawed his way through the snow, slippers and all. 

He was a man possessed. Stephen tackled him in the deep snow, thankful it wasn’t so soft they both didn’t disappear. He flipped Tony onto his back, grabbing him the scruff of his bathrobe. Tony kicked his legs even though he was pinned beneath Stephen’s leg and Stephen couldn’t help it -- he shook Tony, he shook him so hard and the inappropriate part of his brain heard Christine say, “ _ Shake him like a salt shaker _ !” and he might have laughed if he wasn’t so fucking pissed. 

“ _ What the fuck are you doing _ ?” Stephen screamed in Tony’s face, his entire body trembling with frustration.“Just stop! Stop it! Stop fucking doing this! Stop it right now!” 

Tony stared up at him, quite looking like a deer in headlights. Stephen was still gripping the lapel of Tony’s bathrobe when he looked down and saw Tony’s bottom lip trembling, a single tear falling down his cheek. 

“I can’t,” Tony’s voice came out as a whisper and that only strengthened Stephen’s resolve. 

“Let me help you!” Stephen felt his voice crack as he bent over, pressing his forehead to Tony’s in a last ditch effort to communicate. “Let me. Let  _ me _ .”

Stephen kissed him. Hard. All of the week’s frustrations poured into the kiss and it was a desperate clash of teeth and tongues. His pajama pants were clinging to his body, the snow slowly working its way through the thin polyester layer but he couldn’t fucking care. Tony melted into his kiss, pushing, pulling, and Stephen wiped away the warm tears from Tony’s face. They must have looked ridiculous but they were hidden behind the detached garage, shielded by the darkness of night with only god as their witness. 

“Stephen?” Tony said as he caught his breath, “I’m cold.” 

  
  


Tony had lost his slippers in the scuffle and Stephen was too tired to bother looking. He grunted as Tony hopped on his back and he dragged the stubborn drunkard back into the Tower. After dumping Tony into the bathtub rather unceremoniously, he stumbled into Tony’s room to shed his own clothing. He borrowed some night clothes from Tony -- drawstring sweatpants that were too short and too wide, a cotton t-shirt that exposed his belly. He’d probably wake up earlier than any of the Tower residents anyway so it’s not like getting caught was a concern. 

When Tony got out of the shower, Stephen made to leave the room as he began to change into clean clothes.

“You’re not going to stay?” Tony asked innocently. Stephen paused, his hand on the doorknob. He wanted to stay. He wanted more than anything to curl up to Tony and kiss him to sleep. But there were things they needed to address, and questions he needed answered. 

“Will you tell me what happened?” Stephen slowly turned and Tony had thrown on a pair of underwear and hopped into his bed. He patted the empty spot beside him. 

“You look great, by the way,” Tony smirked as Stephen crawled into the bed next to him. “I really like the shirt. Did you get that tailored?”

“Shut it,” Stephen pulled the covers up to his shoulders and he and Tony were lying face to face. This was it. The moment of truth. They spent a few moments just staring at each other and Tony finally broke the silence. 

“It’s a lot,” He sighed, and the playful glint that had been in Tony’s eyes seconds before quickly disappeared. “I’m not saying what I did was right but I just… it just felt like the world was crashing around me and I felt suffocated. I don’t know how to be around you. When Justin and Viv showed up I panicked.”

Stephen did what he’d wanted to do for days, caressing Tony’s cheek as he spoke. His hand curled underneath Tony’s chin and he felt the smallest hint of stubble. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Tony continued. “I’m happy for you, I am. It just kind of threw me for a loop when you said you got that summer internship. I know we’ve been talking about breaking things off for the summer, anyway --”

Stephen blanched at the thought. Summer seemed like millions of years away, it didn’t seem possible that the ground would ever be green again or the air warm. He wanted to be locked in the perpetual winter of their discontent, because as summer approached he knew they were both going to be very unhappy. 

“But I mean the tour doesn’t start for a few days after that, and it just got me thinking -- me here without you, you alone in the city -- it’s a lot, I don’t know,” Tony’s voice dropped off and he shook his head.

“It’s only a week,” Stephen tried to offer a comforting thought but it really was just a terrible situation all around. 

“I know,” Tony acknowledged quietly, “I just thought it’d be easier if I left first.” 

Stephen hugged him then, sneaking an arm underneath Tony’s neck and the other under his armpit. He pulled him close, letting their bodies touch underneath the blanket. Tony squeezed him tight and they both took comfort in the moment. They lay like that for several minutes until their breaths had almost synchronized.

Claiming he was too hot, Tony disentangled himself from Stephen’s embrace. Stephen settled on holding Tony’s hand and Tony pulled their hands to his chest, the back of Stephen’s hand feeling the thrum of Tony’s heartbeat. Stephen tried to connect the dots. Tony wasn’t giving him all of the details but he supposed it would be exhausting for a play-by-play. So he freaked out because of Justin and Viv, he freaked out about the thought of summer… but Tony was the one who was adamant that they end things. Tony was the one who suggested they just be casual. Was he… was he having second thoughts? 

And Tony was right -- Stephen couldn’t flatter himself that much. It was fantastical to think that just the  _ thought _ of their relationship ending could throw a man into a two day bender, illegal substances and all. There had to be something else, a missing piece to the puzzle. 

“What happened with your dad?” Stephen asked minutes later. He immediately felt Tony’s grip spring open, his palm quickly falling out of Stephen’s grasp. He rolled over, exhaling sharply. 

“Tony, please.”

Stephen curled up to him, wrapping an arm around Tony’s waist and he felt Tony’s muscles tense all over. He pressed his cheek into Tony’s back, listening as Tony’s breaths began to increase rapidly and his body started to shake. Stephen realized he was crying, muffling his sobs into one of his pillows. He let Tony cry it out, rubbing his back and arms, crossing his arm across Tony’s chest and holding him as tightly as he could. When the worst had passed, he rolled Tony onto his back and planted kisses along his collarbone, leading a trail up to his neck. Tony was still sniffling when Stephen chastely kissed his lips, looking at him curiously. Tony looked up at him through puffy red eyes, his face wet with tears.

“He fucking dissolved it, man,” Tony croaked out, and Stephen rubbed circles on his chest.

“Dissolved what?” 

“Warning, incoming rich kid problems,” Tony briefly smiled and then cleared his throat, “He dissolved my trust fund.” 

“Oh, Tony…” Stephen went to kiss him but Tony moved his head, staring at a vague point past Stephen’s shoulder.

“Fuck me, right? I mean. Whatever. I didn’t need that to go on tour.” Tony was acting a little blase but maybe he was on the brink of hysteria. “But then… then he--”

Tony was half laughing, half crying. His mouth was split into an awful grin but tears were pooling in his eyes.“That motherfucker rolls in and wipes my accounts. My savings. Says it needs to go towards my hospital bills because he’s certainly not paying for it.”

Tony’s breath was coming out in sobbing gasps and Stephen didn’t even know what to say. 

“I just… What’s the point? I can’t even pay for gas. Fuck, I can’t even pay for  _ rent _ . How the fuck are we supposed to go on tour?” 

“Surely the others --” Stephen realized too late the question was rhetorical.

“That’s not the point, I can’t pay my fair share. What am I supposed to do? That took me months, years. I’m fucked.” Laughter gurgled out of Tony’s lungs and Stephen didn’t know what to do, so he bent down and nestled his head underneath Tony’s neck, forcing him into another embrace. It was the same manic laughter he’d heard in the emergency room, maybe because Tony was still in disbelief. There was no kind way of putting it - Howard Stark was an evil bastard and Stephen wished he could go back in time just to punch him good and hard in the face, just once. 

Tony’s strained giggles quickly turned back into depressive sobs, each heave of his chest pulling at Stephen’s heart strings as he shuddered in his arms. He tried to whisper anything comforting but Tony wasn’t being quiet and Stephen could barely hear himself over Tony’s wails of agony. He kissed him, he pet him, he wiped the tears off his face. He lay on top of him until Tony became calm, his breath sputtering occasionally as the tears threatened to come out again. 

Time seemed to still as they lay in the dark bedroom, watching the moonlit shadows climb the wall. Stephen couldn’t sleep. Tony couldn’t sleep. They’d crossed some sort of imaginary threshold and there was no going back. Tony had said everything he could say and now… now it was Stephen’s turn. 

“Do you love me?” Tony asked, completely out of the blue. Stephen hesitated. He could never unsay it. He could never take it back. Once it was out there, it was permanent. 

He let out a deep breath.“Yes.” 

Nothing could have prepared him for the loud smack to his chest as Tony hit him with his open palm. 

“Why didn’t you say it back, then? Jackass,” Tony huffed, sitting up. 

“I wasn’t sure you said it! Who the fuck says it and then falls asleep?” Stephen sat up hastily and turned on the lamp at his bedside table. He flung an irritated look in Tony’s direction. “ _ Jackasses _ , that’s who.” 

“You’re the jackass.” 

“No,  _ you’re _ the jackass,” Stephen said hotly. He would absolutely die on this hill. 

“I’ll show you who’s a jackass…” In a flurry of motion, Tony hit him with a pillow and then subdued him to the bed, quickly climbing over Stephen’s chest and holding his hands to the mattress. Stephen struggled half-heartedly. Tony leaned in close, his lips just brushing Stephen’s as he spoke. “Say it.”

“Say what?” Stephen smiled, feeling cheeky. Tony growled in response and tightened his grip on Stephen’s wrists. 

“You fucking know what.”

“I love you,” Stephen proclaimed, and the words falling out of his lips sounded like magic, even to his own ears. Tony kissed him then, and when Stephen came up for air, he said it again. “I love you.” 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for hanging on with me! Had family stuff going on (besides the holiday) and had a major depressive episode. Good news, though, wrote the final chapter and I think you'll be quite pleased. :) 
> 
> Leave a comment :)


	30. Nothing Like You and I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony professes his love, Stephen finds a solution.  
> SMUT and a little bit of plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _We spent some time together walking  
>  Spent some time just talking  
> About who we were  
> You held my hand so very tightly  
> And told me what we could be  
> Dreaming of  
> There's nothing like you and I  
> _  
> \- The Perishers

“I love you.”

The words dripped from Tony’s lips like honey. It sent chills down Stephen’s spine, his face immediately growing hot and he became increasingly aware of Tony’s grip on his wrists. He shifted his body, his hip bones rolling into Tony’s thighs as the other boy hovered on top of him. “I love you.”

A featherweight kiss to his forehead, one on each cheek. He smiled as Tony worked his way down his body, whispering the phrase like an incantation. Tony released his wrists gently and guided them to the tops of the pillows. Pushing his hands underneath Stephen’s shirt, he repositioned himself so he could plant kisses across Stephen’s abdomen. 

If someone had asked Stephen just a few hours earlier how his night would go, he wouldn’t have expected anything like this. He’d been sleeping so soundly on the couch when something told him to go check on Tony, and the rest is history. He didn’t think the night could get any more emotionally exhausting, but suddenly his energy felt renewed as Tony’s hands caressed his body. 

He squirmed as he felt Tony’s tongue dip into his navel. He still couldn’t believe it -- believe any of it. The past few days had been a hellish nightmare and yet here he was, in Tony’s bed, and Tony was slowly working Stephen’s pants off his hips. Tony hummed, clearly pleased with himself, as his eyes fell on his prize. 

“Eager, are we?” Tony grinned, drawing a finger down the length of Stephen’s growing erection. Of course it didn’t take much -- Stephen had been so goddamn frustrated earlier he felt like a live wire. The evening’s events had compounded to this and he shrugged Tony’s comment off. He certainly didn’t have anything to be ashamed about. 

“Eager to get this party started,” Stephen quipped, and he immediately closed his eyes in regret. Something about Tony made him into the biggest cheese ball and he’d probably never forgive himself for saying that. Tony was so good at being suave and sexy, and then there was Stephen. 

He heard Tony chuckle (good) and he could feel Tony hovering over his cock. He was so close, he could feel Tony’s breaths dancing over his sensitive skin. He felt Tony’s nose brush against his sack and he really had to wonder what Tony was doing down there. Peeking one eye open, he saw Tony bent over his cock, examining it like a goddamn lab specimen. 

“See anything you like? I’m open all day.” He mentally kicked himself.  _ Oh god, Stephen, why? Why. It’s like you don’t even want to get laid _ . It earned another laugh from Tony, but not before he sent Stephen reeling with a gentle swipe of his tongue. 

It didn’t matter how many times Tony had blown him, or been inside of him. It always felt magical but this -- this felt different. Tony was taking his time admiring Stephen’s body. He was peppering him with kisses, massaging him in all of the right spots, and if Stephen didn’t know any better, he’d say Tony was trying to memorize every inch, every crevice. He was utilizing all of his senses, licking, touching, smelling. He listened to the hitch in Stephen’s breath and he slowly engulfed the rigid member in his mouth, savoring each inch with a flick of his tongue. 

Stephen ran a hand through Tony’s messy mop of hair and relished the smooth texture, like satin through his fingertips. He had grabbed a pillow to muffle his moans, but he stole a glance as Tony swallowed his cock. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of seeing Tony’s mouth around his length (laughably, the only time he was silent besides when he was sleeping) and Tony had the audacity to wink at him as he went down. 

The pillow went back to cover his face. It smelled like Tony, not just his shampoo but like  _ Tony _ and Stephen was beginning to wonder if he was developing a suffocation kink. He accidentally bucked into Tony’s mouth when he did  _ that thing _ he does with his tongue and he felt Tony’s throat constrict around the tip of his cock.  _ Fuck _ . That felt too good. He laid as still as possible and Tony continued his leisurely ministrations. 

He was positively giddy. He could have screamed into the pillow out of sheer happiness, it just didn’t feel  _ real _ . He was right! He’d been right all along. Tony loved him. All of the insanity, all of the craziness seemed worth it just to hear those three little words. He’d pushed down his real feelings, telling himself that they were okay without saying it. But as soon as he heard it he knew he’d been wrong. Even if this was temporary, it sounded like music to his ears. He needed to hear it like he needed goddamn air in his lungs. 

Tony hummed around Stephen’s cock and it brought him right back to the present. He slowed, pulling off of Stephen’s cock by dragging the width of his tongue from base to tip. Stephen sighed at the loss of suction, but the way Tony crawled up his body, kissing as he went, more than made up for it. 

“I have a gag, you know. You don’t have to choke on my pillow.” Tony lifted the pillow out of Stephen’s face and brought his lips to Stephen’s. 

“I don’t want that, who the hell’s used that?” Stephen bristled, he absolutely didn’t need to think about that right now. 

“Me,” With a wink, Tony grinned and reached to his bedside table. He shuffled around a bit, and after a minute, he sat back on his haunches with a perturbed look on his face. “I, um… I appear to be woefully unprepared.” 

“Lube?” Stephen asked, but Tony unfolded his hand to reveal a tube of lubricant. 

“Rubbers,” Tony frowned, but after a moment, he bowed his head and looked at Stephen out of the corner of his eye. “I’m clean if  _ you  _ are…”

“What? That’s not a conditional statement. Either you’re clean or you’re not.”

“I’m clean,” Tony crept up Stephen’s body again, licking his lips. “So...?”

So, indeed. Tony was nuzzling his neck, waiting for an answer, but Stephen couldn’t stop his brain from running a million miles an hour. Apart from the possible health ramifications, it would certainly mean something else for the two of them. No barriers. Implicit trust. And god… just the thought of Tony releasing inside of him… 

“I’m clean, too,” Stephen chirped and Tony nipped at the corner of his mouth, a slight purr falling from his lips. He backed up to remove his pajama pants, his cock straining, begging to be touched. Stephen’s mouth watered at the sight but Tony had already migrated to Stephen’s parted legs, his eyes suddenly black with desire. 

“I’m going to make you feel so good,” Tony promised, his voice low. 

“Was that really contingent on if we had protection? Or are you just saying --  _ oh _ .” 

Tony’s lubed fingers were already teasing his rim, his tongue dragging along Stephen’s perineum. Stephen’s breaths came out as exaggerated gasps and Tony smiled as he kissed his way around Stephen’s incredibly hard cock. He didn’t take it into his mouth again, his tongue popping out to lap up the salty precum. Stephen struggled to remember how to breathe as Tony worked more fingers inside, taking his sweet time pulling Stephen apart. 

Stephen didn’t have to look to know that Tony had that little shit-eating grin on his face. He didn’t have to look to see that Tony was getting more turned on listening to Stephen squirm, struggling to keep quiet so they didn’t wake up the entire house. The sun would be up in a couple of hours at the very least and after the last week, Stephen knew they would get murdered if any of the housemates were disturbed. So, he bit into the flesh of his own arm, hoping that would be enough of a deterrent to moan loudly. 

But then Tony hit  _ that spot _ repeatedly, devilishly, and Stephen lifted his hips off the bed. He shot a glare at Tony as he fucking mewled, angry red bite marks forming on his arm. 

“Aww honey, you’re a disaster,” Tony suckled the tip of his cock and Stephen let out a low groan. He needed more. He needed Tony, all of him. The sensations building in his groin were becoming too much and he was just aching to be filled. 

“Please,” Stephen tried to pout and be cute about it, but his face seemed to be paralyzed, unable to be controlled as Tony curled his fingers. “ _ OH  _ fuck. Tony, please. I need to feel you.” 

Tony removed his fingers gently, taking a moment to admire the view. Stephen watched as Tony took his cock in his hand and guided himself to Stephen’s entrance. Pleasure clouded his vision as he felt the smooth head breach him, and he felt the groan Tony let out vibrate through his body. They were fucking connected and he felt like he could feel every beat of Tony’s heart, every shudder of his lungs, every twitch of his muscles as he worked his cock in at an excruciatingly slow pace. 

_ Breathe _ . Stephen felt like a pile of clay and with every push of his hips, Tony was shaping him, molding him. When Tony was fully seated, he bent over and sucked Stephen’s bottom lip, pulling him into a real kiss as his length throbbed deep within. Tony’s tongue explored Stephen’s mouth playfully, capturing the tiny gasps coming unwittingly from Stephen’s throat. 

Tony straightened his back and began to move. Stephen felt his brow was permanently knit, the pleasure impossibly high. He felt his muscles gripping Tony every time he pulled out, the slight resistance every time he pushed in and god, he had never felt so  _ full _ . Tony was the only thing he could feel or see, consuming his thoughts and dominating his reality. Nothing else existed and all Stephen could feel was where their bodies joined, and all he could hear were the sinful noises falling out of Tony’s mouth. 

Gone were the attempts to be quiet. They were grunting, groaning, soaking in the sounds of skin slapping skin and suddenly every single thrust was hitting home and Stephen felt his eyes watering at the intense sensations. Noise involuntarily escaped his mouth as his entire body jolted with the force of Tony’s hips and suddenly he couldn’t see anymore, his vision going completely white. 

His entire body seized, his toes curling, his ass clenching and maybe he was screaming. His pleasure ripped out of his body in waves, and suddenly he understood the french phrase  _ la petite mort _ \-  _ little death _ \- and his chest constricted from the force of his orgasm. 

Tony cried out, his eyes closing as he rutted into Stephen, his mouth shaped like an ‘o’. One pump, two -- Stephen felt Tony’s cock swell and twitch. Tony let out a moan, and then he was coming so hard Stephen felt ribbons of spunk hit his walls. 

They made eye contact as Tony slowly caught his breath, and a smile spread across his face. He pulled out of Stephen’s body slowly, his eyes glued on where their bodies met. Stephen felt Tony’s spend leak from his hole, and he closed his eyes as Tony pressed into him, languidly swirling his spunk with his fingers. 

“I fucking love you, Strange,” Tony said softly. Coaxing his member back to life, he pushed himself back into Stephen’s body, bending down to plant a kiss on Stephen’s lips. Stephen cradled him, not caring that they were sticky and sweaty and disgusting. Tony stayed inside of him, not moving, kissing Stephen for all he was worth. 

Stephen felt happy, fulfilled. This was real, and it felt really fucking good. He pulled Tony closer, enjoying the weight on his chest. He never wanted the moment to end. They kissed until Tony fell asleep, nestled under the crook of Stephen’s neck, and Stephen finally succumbed to slumber as the sun came up.

* * *

Tony called a house meeting before everyone left for work. They crowded into the kitchen. Stephen sat next to Tony at the breakfast nook and he couldn’t help but wonder why Bucky was giving him the stink-eye from across the room, munching on a piece of toast. Tony noticed the steely exchange as he topped off Stephen’s cup of coffee.

“You got a problem, Barnes?” Tony asked coolly. 

“Yeah, thin walls.” Bucky narrowed his eyes to mere slits and Stephen blushed. Maybe they’d been a little too raucous that morning. It wasn’t Stephen’s fault that Bucky’s room was right next to Tony’s. He shrunk in his seat, shooting an apologetic look at the menacing cook. 

“Can we get this shindig started? I still have to shower,” Rhodey tapped his fingers on the table impatiently. “What’s this all about? Are you alright, Tone?” 

All eyes fell on Tony and Stephen loved the way his friends looked at him. Their faces clearly expressed their concern, brows furrowed and eyes rapt with attention as Tony began to speak. Stephen watched as Rhodey tried to keep his calm reserve as Tony explained what Howard had done, his jaw clenching, his fist curling tighter. 

A heavy silence lay over the room and Tony sat back, taking Stephen’s hand into his. Sam was the first to speak -- he’d finalized all of their tour dates, and they were slated to be on the road almost every single day. Bucky was still working on fixing up the van and they had expenses they needed to cover before they even left. 

They could scrape together rent for Tony, or maybe Pepper would let him get an advance on his paycheck. Either way it was going to be a struggle. They hadn’t been saving as aggressively as they should have, because at the end of May, Tony was expected to get quite the payout. It was shortsighted, maybe, but no one had expected for Howard to step in and ruin things. 

“We could sleep in the van,” Sam suggested lightly, “The booking fees barely cover gas, let alone lodging. We could save a few grand just by doing that.” 

“This neck does not do well sleeping sitting up,” Clint hooked his thumb towards his chest, disapproving. “I need to be horizontal.”  
  
“Sleep on the roof, then,” Sam said bitterly, folding his arms. “It was just a suggestion.” 

“A fucking shitty one,” Clint retorted, and the conversation quickly devolved into personal attacks. Stephen sat quietly while Tony tried to reign in the crew, Sam and Clint clambering over Rhodey to smack each other while Bucky folded his arms, enjoying the view from across the kitchen. 

“Cut it out!” Tony snapped his fingers. “I’ll figure it out, Jesus. I was just letting you know what happened.” 

“We have less than two months to go,” Rhodey reminded him. “We don’t even have anything until then, because Pepper said she’d kill me if I distracted y’all from graduation.” 

“So we pick up some shows, what she doesn’t know won’t kill her,” Tony sipped his coffee and Sam laughed.

“Yeah, okay. Maybe  _ you _ can cross Pepper but I’m certainly not going to.” 

“Maybe you don’t have to do several shows, just one,” Stephen piped up and Tony shifted his whole body to look at him. Sam cleared his throat and clasped his fingers together on the table. 

“Stephen… while I appreciate your obviously well-thought-out input, I think I need to remind you of the  _ very _ slim margins of performing shows. I could barely buy a taco at 7-Eleven after our last gig so I’m just spit-balling here, maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think one show is going to cut it,” Sam blinked at him, a condescending smile on his face, and Stephen groaned. 

“Hear me out, Wilson. Throw a mini-music festival. Grab the local bands and promise a cut if you reach your goal. People love playing fundraisers, just ask for a favor as your final send off.” Stephen said hopefully. Sam’s face screwed up as he thought about it intently. Rhodey nodded, slowly agreeing, Stephen jumped as Tony suddenly clapped his hands over Stephen’s ears. 

“You’re a  _ genius _ !” Tony exclaimed, pulling him in for a rough kiss. “What would I ever do without you?” 

Stephen smiled, basking in the warmth from Tony’s praise. He watched Tony immediately dive into planning mode, excitedly explaining his ideas to his band mates. Sam finally conceded that it was a good idea and soon, Bucky pulled up a chair at the table and joined the conversation. Tony was talking a mile a minute, his hands waving wildly in the air as he explained his vision. He probably felt Stephen watching him and took a moment to squeeze Stephen’s knee, sending a reassuring pulse through his body. 

Stephen didn’t know what Tony would do without him. 

He hoped summer never came so they would never have to find out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really barreling towards the end here and it makes me sad :( Might add a couple of chapters though, there's just a little bit left to say...
> 
> Leave a comment! :)


	31. Addicted to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony goes back to work. Christine steals Stephen for an afternoon. Plans for the festival begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _You rescued me so I can  
>  I can be free to love and  
> You made me strong now I am  
> Forever safe in your hand  
> I'm addicted to you  
> And your love is enough for me  
> It's set me free  
> _  
> \- Sam and Sounds
> 
> Sorry for the delay! Death in the family makes writing kind of unfun. Extending the chapter count by a little.

“Oh, god damn it.” Carol slammed the door to the walk-in shut. It was the third time that shift that she’d walked in on Tony and Stephen making out, nuzzling, cuddling, or generally expressing too much affection for her liking. She just needed to get some goddamn lemons and she opened the door to see them glued to each other, their lips locked in a passionate kiss, their limbs tangled in the cramped space. She’d already caught them at the bar before they opened, and behind the line when the other cooks were on a quick smoke break. It was beginning to get annoying.

“He-ey,” Tony slid out of the walk-in, redoing the clasps on his chef shirt. He caught up to Carol as she strode through the kitchen. “You need something in there, Danvers? I’m sure Stephen can grab it for you once he gets his pants back on.”

“Very funny,” She huffed as she pushed through the swinging doors, the crate in her arms empty. Tony followed her with puppy dog eyes. She turned to address him, ready to let him have a piece of her mind. “You know, it was a  _ lot _ easier to get work done around here before you and Strange shacked up.” 

“You could always join us,” Tony said slyly, his eyes twinkling. “There’s enough Tony to go around for everyone.” 

She’d dreamt of this moment. That moment where Tony would say something so unforgivably inane that she had no choice but to backhand him across his cherubic face. She considered it for a few seconds, but then she heard Pepper laughing in the background and her hopes of sweet revenge quickly dissipated. Better not to slap the sous chef when the boss was around. 

“You’re a pig.” She glared at him instead. Tony reached out to her as she walked the length of the bar, distancing herself as much as possible. 

“My heart beats for you, Carol! Come back!” He cried, a pained expression on his face. Stephen walked out of the kitchen just in time to hear Tony’s dramatic plea. 

“You fucking Carol, now?” Stephen smirked and gently patted Tony’s behind. 

“Believe me honey, I’ve barked up that tree,” Tony winked at him. “She is  _ impervious  _ to my charm.”

Stephen grinned and kissed Tony on the cheek. He knew being flirtatious was Tony’s second nature, and he knew Carol would sooner die than ever get caught in a romantic situation, especially with Tony. Even if it wasn’t Carol, Stephen wouldn’t be concerned. For once, he felt secure. Tony loved him and that’s all he needed to know. 

Tony returned to work sooner than Pepper had anticipated. He was going stir crazy at the Tower, taking apart every single appliance (and not necessarily putting it back together) and staying up all hours, annoying his roommates. Once the kitchen was in complete disarray, Rhodey put his foot down and demanded that Tony go back to work. It was better for everyone involved. 

Stephen was rather enjoying his one on one time with Tony. They watched every obscure movie Tony could think of, Stephen sat and listened while Tony played his guitar or the piano. One time Tony broke out the trumpet. Some might have considered it babysitting, but Stephen secretly loved spending every minute he could with Tony. He even brought a toothbrush to the Tower, but he kept it in Tony’s room because Bucky had a penchant for using anyone’s. The best thing about the whole ordeal was that they were stone cold sober. 

Tony swore off drugs. Temporarily, at least. He’d seen how crazy he’d gotten and he didn’t like the sympathetic looks he was getting from his friends. Clint had gone out of his way to keep drugs out of the house, so much so he didn’t stay at the Tower much unless they had a rehearsal. The drinking problem was an entirely different beast. When Stephen gently suggested sobriety, Tony laughed him out of the room. 

“Do you want me to die? Go into immediate withdrawal?” Tony and Stephen were arguing about going out for drinks with the gang and Stephen expressed his disdain. Tony dismissed Stephen’s concern with a wave of his hand. “ _ Please _ . This body runs on alcohol. I’m like a well-oiled machine. I just need two beers, tops.” 

Stephen reluctantly drove them downtown to the bar. Tony was in good spirits, having only left the Tower to pick up his car at Thor’s (and repair the lock Rhodey had broken) and to go to work. He tapped his fingers on his thigh, nodding his head to the music thumping through the stereo. Stephen couldn’t help but feel like an enabler as Tony swung open the vibrant red door of Flanny’s. Cheers rang from the bar as they spotted the crew and Maria had already poured their drinks. Tony grinned widely as he took his beer and slid his credit card to the bartender.

“One drink,” Stephen warned him. 

“One double,” Tony countered, foam already on his upper lip.

“That counts as two --” 

“I’m going to do what I want, anyway. Why are you fighting this?” Tony narrowed his eyes and Stephen huffed. He wanted to strangle Tony sometimes, maybe all of the time. Like going to the hospital wasn’t bad enough, but Tony really liked to tempt fate and Stephen was beginning to consider that a character flaw. 

“Because I love you and I don’t want you to die?” Stephen said quietly, trying not to let his anger come out in his voice. 

“I won’t!” Tony pat Stephen on the shoulder, shaking him gently. “Geez. Lighten up. It’s just one drink.” 

“You said two drinks.”

“Aww, you get me,” Tony gave Stephen a peck on the cheek and disappeared, slinking through the crowd to get to their friends across the bar. Stephen had been duped, sure, but it was inevitable at this point. Tony was going to do whatever he wanted and wasn’t that just the theme for the entire year? Sulking, he grabbed his beer and went to join the others. It was going to be a long night, but all Stephen had to do was stay sober enough to drive them home. 

  
  


“What about Friday?” Christine stood by the kitchen island, quizzing Stephen about his weekend plans. She finally had a break in her schoolwork and she wanted to celebrate with Stephen, but she was finding it increasingly difficult. 

“I don’t think that will work, Tony has rehearsal.” He was idly scrolling through Stark Naked’s social media, liking posts that he’d missed before. To anyone else, he might have seemed obsessive -- but he thought he was just being a supportive friend. So what if he went back to the band’s conception and liked every post? So what if he watched every single midnight session? So what if he commented on every single photo of Tony? 

“What about Saturday?” Christine pressed. “We could go to the vineyard in Trumansburg, you’ve been talking about that since you moved here --”

“I don’t think Tony would like that.” 

Christine rolled her eyes. “Oh my  _ god _ , Stephen. Tony doesn’t have to go.” 

He looked up at her. The thought hadn’t occurred to him at all. 

“I was thinking you and I could go. Alone,” she continued, “You know? Because we’re roommates and best friends and I haven’t hung out with you in forever?”

“We’re hanging out right now,” He said, turning back to his phone. Tony looked so cute shirtless with just a pair of bulky headphones around his neck, his chest slicked with sweat from the unrelenting stage lights… 

“No, we aren’t,” Christine sighed and walked around the island. She sat in the stool next to him and gently placed her hand over his phone, pulling him away from staring at Tony’s biceps. “Even when we’re in the same room you’re not really  _ here _ , are you? I miss you.” 

He studied her, her petite face filled with concern and longing and he realized he’d been a shitty friend. He was so wrapped up in Tony (literally) that he neglected to pay attention to her, only recognizing her accomplishment of getting into medical school with a bottle of vodka and a generic card. Putting his phone face-down on the counter, he leaned in and pulled her in for a hug. 

“I miss you, too. Saturday, I’m yours.” 

  
  


Christine drove them out to the vineyard and they blasted music, singing along until their voices were hoarse. It was nice to get out of town, even if it was just for a few hours. Stephen still had to work that evening, but that was more than enough time to get lunch and have a glass of local wine. 

It felt so good to laugh a lot. His mind had been so preoccupied with Tony lately that he’d forgotten what it was like to be with Christine. She was spontaneous, unpredictable, silly. It was hard to believe she’d been his friend for so many years and here they were, two kids from Nebraska, going to a wine tasting in the middle of the  _ day  _ in central New York. She held up her pinky to her mouth, pretending to sip a cup of tea while the sommelier droned on, and Stephen burst out laughing. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe he was just giddy - but they quieted down after they received glares from other patrons. 

Change was in the air and Christine felt it, too. Stephen remembered how scared and sick he felt at the thought of graduation. School had been a safe little escape and suddenly they were being dumped into the real world. Christine was moving to Washington D.C. and Stephen to New York City. New cities, new faces. The only real consolation was that Christine would only ever be a phone call away. 

“It’s gonna be so weird,” Christine lamented as they got into her car. They splurged, buying a few bottles of wine to celebrate. The mood had been light the whole day but as they were checking out, Stephen couldn’t help but spiral. This would be one of the last times he hung out with Christine. The last time they were both completely free, untethered from the responsibilities that came with growing up. Would they even see each other over the next six years? She felt it, too, and patted her hand reassuringly on his knee cap as she drove. “I’m so glad you moved here. This year would have been so boring without you.”

He doubted that - she still had the  _ Bella’s  _ crew to hang out with. But when Tony wasn’t around, there were a lot of small moments between the two of them. Eating a late breakfast, having midnight snacks, hanging out and watching tv between Christine’s study breaks. He’d help her prepare for tests, having memorized most of the material. It’d been rough, at the beginning, integrating with her friend group. It was so terrible with the kitchen at first Stephen didn’t think that it would even work out. But now… now things were different. He had Tony and he couldn’t ever thank Christine enough for that. 

Between the university and the college on the south hill, the music scene was incredibly diverse. Talented musicians were not in short supply and it didn’t take long to gather a handful of bands and performers to play at their festival. Even Christine’s friends (that Stephen hated) agreed to play, and Sam sat back in his chair, happy as a clam, as he glanced over the itinerary. 

“I think we’ve got it,” Sam posted the finalized list to the least-busy wall in the studio. The band stood around, nodding approvingly. Everything was coming together. 

“Pepper’s cool with ordering beer for us. That cuts the costs in half,” Rhodey added. They’d searched around, looking for the cheapest purveyor - but since they weren’t wholesale, no one would sell to them at a reasonable price. For once, Pepper was willing to bend the rules and order from the restaurant’s distributor. 

Soon, Sam would drum up interest on social media. They’d sell tickets online and charge people for alcohol. They’d also accept donations of any kind, but it was a college town so they weren’t expecting a whole lot. Rhodey wasn’t happy with the mountain of illegalities they were about to face but it was just  _ one _ night. They were going to build a stage in front of the Tower and the whole thing would take place on private property. There weren’t any neighbors for a mile, so there shouldn’t be any chance of noise complaints. At the very least, all they had to do was to sell enough tickets to cover their costs. 

Pepper would kill them if they did anything before graduation. They compromised on the date - the festival was slated to be thirteen days later on a Saturday. It was an important weekend for a lot of reasons: Stephen would finish up at  _ Bella _ ’s that Friday, Tony’s birthday was the same day as the festival, and Christine was driving Stephen to Manhattan that Monday. One thing after the other. Stephen’s heart cracked just thinking about it, but he hid it - Tony was so excited about everything that was happening. 

He talked about the tour non stop, plotting out the cities on a giant map in his bedroom. Tony had traveled all over the world but he’d rarely gone to smaller cities in America. Suddenly the world seemed fascinating again and Tony only got quiet when Stephen stopped contributing to their conversations. He noticed it in particular one day when they were cuddling on Tony’s bed. Tony was rattling off all of the things he wanted to do in Sedona, Arizona, when he realized Stephen hadn’t said anything for a few minutes. His voice tapered off and he lay there, his arm around Stephen’s shoulder, and he asked what was on Stephen’s mind.

“What happens when the tour ends?” Stephen asked quietly. Tony’s shirt had ridden up as they lay in bed and he was tracing a finger around Tony’s belly button, memorizing every inch of his exposed skin. 

“I don’t know,” Tony sighed, placing his hand over Stephen’s wandering fingers. Frankly, it tickled and now did not seem like a moment to laugh. “I s’pose we’ll find some place like here and get jobs while we figure out our next moves.”

“Why not New York?”

“I know what you’re thinking, but I don’t think that would work out for a myriad of reasons.”

“Manhattan is big enough for two Starks.” Stephen said slyly, reclaiming his hand and continuing to twirl his fingertips through the vertical strip of hair that led from Tony’s belly button to the hem of his underwear. “And besides, he’s not even there half the time. But you know who  _ would  _ be…” 

“We’ll just have to wait and see,” Tony kissed Stephen’s forehead. Stephen curled his arm around Tony’s waist and held him as close as he could. He wanted to dwell in these moments forever, searing the memory into his brain. They lay there, just breathing. Tony stared at the ceiling and Stephen watched Tony bounce his toes to the rhythm of an imaginary melody. After a few moments, Tony spoke again. 

“You know how I feel about you. If I could… if I could change where our lives were leading us, I would,” He let out a deep breath, the swell of his chest pressing into Stephen’s cheek. “But I gotta go and do my thing, and you have to go do your thing. If our paths cross again in the future, well…” 

Tony didn’t finish his sentence, and he didn’t have to. Stephen knew what he meant. If their paths crossed again they could be together. Maybe it was too much to hope for, but the future was beginning to feel more daunting than ever. Stephen closed his eyes and made a wish. 

After the tour, all he wanted was for Tony to end up in New York. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Next chap:  
> The gang tackles graduation and Pepper rewards them with a booze cruise. But maybe Tony has other plans?
> 
> Leave a comment :)


	32. Head In the Clouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graduation! Booze cruise! Tony has a surprise in store...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Don't get too close or it might show  
>  I'll turn from nice guy to asshole  
> There's really never perfect endings for a man like me  
> And even when I seek perfection, it ain't mine to keep  
> My head is in the clouds  
> Don't feel like coming down  
> I ain't got time for no tomorrow  
> _  
> \- BabyJake

Stephen blinked and suddenly it was May. The snow had completely melted, the stage was being built on the front lawn of the Tower, and Christine hauled a few boxes from work so Stephen could start packing. It felt fucking surreal. 

For the past month, he and Tony had fallen into some sort of routine. They both still had work, and Tony had his rehearsals. But no matter what had happened during the day, Stephen was in Tony’s bed at night, or Tony was in his. Tony liked to cook breakfast, or he’d disappear in the morning to bring back coffee and pastries. Their synchronicity went unspoken, unexplained. Tony was just _there_. 

Wherever Tony went, Stephen went. Much to their friends' disdain, they were annoyingly inseparable. On the off chance they went to the bars or went to a house party, they always left early to go home. The company of other people seemed just a little less interesting and the introvert in Stephen fucking loved that. 

It was for the best, anyway. Work was ramping up and Pepper was slowly driving everyone insane. A week before graduation, she revamped the entire inventory system and reorganized the walk in. It was impossible to find anything but they couldn’t argue with her. She was at the restaurant all hours and Stephen was beginning to wonder if she slept there, too. 

The week leading up to graduation was the absolute worst. The kitchen staff was working longer days in order to prepare for the incoming onslaught, Pepper was in a terrible mood, and most of the wait staff was working straight through. There was light at the end of the tunnel, and every single person at the restaurant couldn’t wait -- the day after graduation, _Bella_ ’s would close and Pepper would treat everyone to a cruise around Cayuga Lake. 

It was aptly nicknamed the booze cruise. Stephen heard stories from years past and it sounded like a total shit show. Everyone got recklessly drunk and based on the rumors he heard, it was a miracle they all continued to work together. He couldn’t imagine Pepper and Bruce doing keg stands, but after spending a lot of time at the Tower, he most certainly could imagine Bucky and Clint running around naked. The boat even pulled up next to a swanky yacht club and it was tradition to moon the unfortunate patrons. Nat loved telling these stories, and she made sure to fill Stephen in during the week leading up to it.

“Scott got an OUI last year,” she announced, sidling up to Stephen while he put his order into the computer.

“What? How?” He knew Scott had just gotten his license back a couple of months ago, but he never bothered to ask why he lost it in the first place. Scott could probably hear the derision in Natasha’s voice and inserted himself on the other side of Stephen, trying to defend his honor. 

“I don’t know! I wasn’t even driving,” Scott said in his earnest way, “I was just sleeping in my car and the cop arrested me.”

“The door was open,” Nat reminded him.

“So? I wasn’t driving.”

“You were parked on someone’s lawn,” she said, her voice drier still. Scott shot her a look. 

“My point still stands.” 

They both left the server station, leaving Stephen to finish putting in his order. He still heard them bickering about it hours later. It all sounded a little dangerous for Tony, he didn’t need an invitation to drink himself stupid again. Like the others, Tony had been talking about the booze cruise all week and Stephen didn’t want him to be disappointed. They’d worked hard and deserved to celebrate. However… Stephen couldn’t turn off the tiny voice in his head that said, _at what cost_? 

  
  


If Stephen had complained about work before, he realized on the day of graduation that he had been a whiny fucking bitch. They opened two hours early and were staying open an hour later just to accommodate all of the reservations. On top of that, they were short two employees (Christine and Rhodey had to go spend time with their families, or something) and they were stuck with a couple of trainees who were constantly underfoot. Stephen didn’t even bother to learn their names because in two weeks’ time, it wouldn’t matter. 

“Fuck a _duck_ ,” Tony shouted from behind the line. The tickets were printing faster than he and Clint and could put them up, and every time a server came to the kitchen they were met with glares. “What are you assholes doing out there? Seating curbside?” 

“Everyone seated had a reservation,” Stephen said pleasantly. He was waiting for one plate, and he felt bad he couldn’t help. Tony was sweaty, swearing up a storm, and the night wasn’t even half over. “Shouldn’t you be a pro at this by now?” 

“I’m a pro at sucking dick, not taking it up the ass,” Tony quipped, and they heard Sam laugh from the dish pit. 

“Preach.”

“Cut it out!” Pepper was expediting for the servers, trying to keep food coming out in an orderly manner. She rapped her hand impatiently on the metal shelf Stephen felt Tony’s wrath, even though he wasn’t looking at him. “Tony, I need table four. They’ve been waiting half an hour for apps.” 

“Them and everyone else —”

“Shit shit shit. Guys, I’m so sorry!” Rogers burst into the kitchen, a half eaten plate of steak in his hand. “I need the filet for eleven again, he wanted it mid rare, not medium.”

Groans rang out from the kitchen crew and Clint narrowed his eyes at Rogers, gritting his teeth. “And you call yourself the captain?”

Stephen couldn’t stick around to hear the barrage of insults; he had to attend to his tables. Tony quietly put up Stephen’s plate and with just a nod, Stephen left the kitchen. While it was nice to be in the air conditioned dining room for a moment, his happiness was fleeting as he made his rounds. His tables were exceptionally needy, and he didn’t have any parties smaller than six. Bruce and Carol were completely silent behind the bar, working in a speechless tandem. 

“Can you make me another martini for my table? She said it wasn’t dirty enough,” Stephen pleaded, and for a second, he thought Carol would actually leap over the bar and slit his throat. 

“ _Not dirty enough_? I’ll make it fucking dirty for her,” Carol muttered under her breath, and he watched as she scrunched her mouth --

“Don’t spit in it, please.” He heard the bell ring in the kitchen and Tony called out his name. With one last furtive look at Carol, he tore himself away from the bar and knocked as he went through the swinging doors. He walked up to the expediting station and saw two plates that didn’t look like anything he’d ordered. 

“Can you take those to the bar? I can’t get either of those fuckheads to come in here,” Tony asked, wiping at the sweat on his brow with his forearm. “Oh, hold on a sec…”

Stephen agreed, but not before Scott almost ran into him, barreling through the swinging doors without looking. 

“Those filthy motherfucking cocksuckers!” Scott hollered, and for once, Pepper wasn’t angry that he was swearing within earshot of the dining room. 

“What? What now?” Pepper asked, exasperated. Natasha followed Scott, a pile of dirty dishes in her hands. She dumped them in the sink, earning a glare from Sam, and put her hand on her hip. 

“Someone blew up the bathroom,” Nat said, catching her breath. “And I mean _blew up._ Front and back damage.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Pepper murmured. Of course that would happen right now. 

“Order up! Natasha!”

“Fuck. Does anyone have a minute? I got a lady who needs to piss,” Nat grabbed her plates and quickly exited the kitchen. No one moved. 

“I’m on it,” Sam said after a beat, and he went to the back to grab the mop bucket. Clint sniggered as he walked by and Sam added, “I hate you guys.”

“Do you have any bar glasses? Bruce is crying, ” Scott stopped Sam with his hand and without saying a word, Sam pointed at the mountain of dishes piled in the sink. Scott understood. Rolling up his sleeves, he marched over to the dish pit and began loading glasses into the dishwasher. Tony finally put up the plates for the bar and Stephen whisked them away, thankful to get out of the sweltering kitchen. 

  
  


Stephen had never felt so much relief as when Pepper triumphantly locked the front door. Their last guests had finally left the restaurant and he heard screams of joy emitting from the back. 

“I’m going to drink until I can’t stand!” Tony bellowed as Stephen strolled into the kitchen.  
“No, you’re not,” he said sweetly, walking around the line to wrap his arms around Tony’s waist. 

“I’m going to have a beer and go home!” Tony corrected, and he slung his arm around Stephen’s shoulder. Stephen leaned into their hug, not caring that his cheek was getting damp from pressing into Tony’s sweat-soaked chef coat.

“That’s better.” 

He looked around the kitchen, gazing at the happy and exhausted faces of his coworkers. They were done. Finished. While Christine and Rhodey had graduated from college that day, Stephen felt that he, too, had actually accomplished something. Not to undermine their achievements, but he felt fucking giddy that he had actually survived graduation night.  
“Welp, see you bright and early!” Bucky called out, fishing his car keys out of his pocket and walking towards the back door.  
“The boat doesn’t leave until noon?” Natasha folded her arms, confused.

“Yes, and…?” Bucky made a face at her and pushed his back against the door. He slid into the alleyway without saying anything else. Stephen smiled. 

  
  


“Why would anyone jump off? Silly captain.” Scott dismissed the captain’s announcements, grinning like a loon. The boat had departed from the dock at twelve o’clock sharp, and the _Bella’s_ crew was settling in nicely. Stephen already had a margarita in his hand, and he sipped it quietly while he listened to Nat berate Scott.

“They obviously say that shit because someone’s done it before. Haven’t you seen those videos on YouTube?” Nat scolded. “It’s always those drunk-ass wedding parties and half the groomsmen leap into the water.” 

Stephen pursed his lips around his straw, glancing around the top deck. It was a perfect day for a cruise, the sky was clear and blue, and the water didn’t seem too rocky. He’d never been on a large boat before and he was afraid he might get motion sickness. His worries were soon quelled and he was able to walk around the boat without feeling sick.

It was strange seeing his coworkers in this setting. He’d hung out with most of them outside of work, but he couldn’t get over seeing Rogers in casual summer wear or seeing Pepper without high heels. She chose sensible sandals, but still wore a flowy summer dress that made her look like a model. No way she was doing a keg stand in _that_. 

It was equally peculiar seeing Bruce out and about. Stephen had _never_ seen him around town, hadn’t even run into him at the grocery store. Bruce was also dressed down, sporting a purple button-up and a pair of khaki shorts. His normally professional demeanor was suddenly relaxed and he was drinking something vibrant and pink with a little umbrella. 

Christine’s parents had dropped them off at the dock. Stephen spent the morning with them, catching up and getting breakfast. He actually liked Christine’s parents better than his own, but they were both thrilled to leave when the time came. Christine’s parents didn’t understand why she _had_ to go on this trip when she _should_ be celebrating with her family. She gracefully ignored her mother’s snide remarks, convincing her that Pepper was militant and the trip was mandatory. 

It wasn’t a complete lie. Pepper might be in sandals but she still was as strict as ever, warning the bartenders about the kitchen crew. There wasn’t a whole lot that could be done, as the kegs were still free reign and anyone could help themselves. Whatever happened on the boat day was entirely her responsibility and she’d sooner murder someone than let anything happen. 

That became imminently clear once the keg stands began. Much to Stephen’s dismay, Tony was the first to volunteer and Stephen watched as Bucky and Clint held Tony’s legs in the air while he drank. Reluctantly, Stephen went next and as he felt all of the blood go to his head, his throat threatening to close at the onslaught of foamy beer, he realized doing a keg stand was not an experience he ever needed to have again. 

Music thumped through the speakers and a dance floor had been set up on the bow of the ship. He danced with Christine, he danced with Tony, he danced with nearly every employee and it felt so _good_. He kept an eye on Tony, shoving a bottle of water into his hands whenever he could. He felt a little tipsy himself but the last thing he wanted was for Tony to have another episode. 

“Relax, would you? I’m keeping track,” Tony grinned and held up the inside of his wrist for Stephen to see. He’d started to keep a tally with a permanent marker. “I’m being good.” 

Stephen doubted that. Tony was a lot of things but he was very rarely ‘good’. He eyed his lover suspiciously, paying careful attention to the skin around his nostrils. 

“Nose candy free, darling. Have a little faith in me.” Tony touted, brushing a finger across Stephen’s cupid-bow lips. 

At one point, Pepper called everyone together so she could give a speech. She thanked them for working so hard -- for graduation, and for the rest of the time. She was about to lose so much of her staff and Stephen could see her emotions getting the best of her. Her lip trembled as she spoke and Bruce threw an arm around her while she finished. It was a sad moment to be sure, and when she raised her glass, even Bucky was respectful and didn’t say anything crass. 

  
  
  


“Did you leave your phone in the car?” Tony whispered into his ear a little bit later. Stephen had thought it a weird instruction to receive by text, but when he read it he thought it might be some bizarre company policy. Maybe Tony didn’t want any photographic evidence of the debauchery in case it got back to his dad. 

“Yes, but why --” Stephen started, but Tony quickly hushed him with a finger to his lips.

“All in good time, my little cucumber.” Tony tapped the tip of Stephen’s nose and led him down the stairs to the bathroom. He shut the door, the two of them crammed into the tiny single stall. 

“Take off your shoes.” Tony said in a commanding voice.  
  
“What? Ew, no, I -”

“I _said_ , take off your shoes. And your socks. And your pants. It’s easier this way,” Tony continued, bending down to take off his own. Stephen didn’t move, and Tony let out a loud sigh. “Do you trust me?” 

“Usually?” Stephen squeaked, his voice appearing strangled in his throat. 

“Take _off_ your pants or I will take them off for you.”

When Stephen finally cooperated, Tony pointed to Rhodey’s backpack and they piled their clothing near it. Stephen had no idea what was going on in Tony’s brain, and maybe he’d had too much to drink, but he followed Tony back up to the top deck. Without explaining, Tony took his hand and led him to the bow. 

“This boat is going around the harbor for another four hours. I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty over this. We’re pulling up to the Cascadilla Boat Club and I know this is a little unconventional, but it’s important you do as I do without asking any questions.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Stephen queried, distracted by the sounds of _D.M.C_ blaring through the speakers. It was hard to focus as everyone danced around wildly, reciting the lyrics at the top of their lungs. He could barely hear Tony when he spoke. 

“We’re going to jump ship.” 

Cheers could be heard as the boat cruised by the yacht club. Some of their coworkers lined up to do the age-old tradition of pulling down their pants and showing their bare asses to all of the hoity-toity rich yacht-owners. Stephen stole a glance at his peers but when he looked back at Tony, he realized he had already hoisted himself up on the railing, his bare feet poised and ready to launch. 

“Come on, Stephen!” Tony beckoned him with a wave of his hand. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. He could hear the boat captain shouting at them over the speakers, and as soon as Pepper realized what was going on, she marched towards them at full speed. Tony saw her and his eyes went wide. He jumped from the railing before Stephen could protest. Pepper was getting closer, her blue eyes full of fury and Stephen panicked. With one push he heaved his body over the shoddy barrier, falling into the lake with a loud splash. 

“ _I’M GOING TO KILL YOU, TONY_ !” Pepper’s shrill voice thundered over the surface of the lake. He vaguely heard Tony laughing, swimming away as fast as he could. “ _YOU OWE ME FOR THE DEPOSIT_!” 

He followed Tony to the nearest wharf, trying not to feel incredibly guilty about betraying Pepper’s trust. Tony didn’t seem to care, clambering onto the dock and grabbing a conveniently placed towel to dry himself off. He handed Stephen a towel as he joined him, and they still heard cheers and whistles from the patrons above. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Tony smiled, patting his face dry. 

Stephen had no fucking clue what Tony had planned, but he couldn’t wait to find out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chap:  
> Tony plans a surprise date.
> 
> Leave a comment :)


	33. Somewhere Only We Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony takes Stephen somewhere secret. Well, mostly secret. Smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _And if you have a minute, why don't we go  
>  Talk about it somewhere only we know?  
> This could be the end of everything  
> So why don't we go somewhere only we know?  
> _  
> \- Keane

He really shouldn’t have been surprised at all. Of course Tony had zero intention of staying on the booze cruise. Of course Tony knew someone who worked at the yacht club and that person also happened to owe Tony a favor. Of course Tony’s car was parked in the lot, and of course Stephen had to walk through the yacht club dripping wet. 

He clutched at the towel cinched at his waist and followed Tony like a lost dog, trying not to focus on the slap of his bare feet on the pristine tile. Tony swaggered through the club like he owned the place. He waved at the club members as he passed by, a smug smirk pasted on his face, and he casually swung by the host station to retrieve his car keys. Tony was so comfortable being the center of attention and Stephen was  _ not _ . Slight words were exchanged with the host; Tony shook hands with the young man dressed in uniform and with a wink, he led Stephen out into the parking lot. 

“Don’t think for one second that you’re getting into my car soaking wet. Strip,” Tony demanded, taking his own clothes off while he opened his car door. Stephen stared -- he was used to seeing Tony naked, but certainly not in a parking lot surrounded by luxury vehicles, and where people were still walking into the yacht club. He froze, water still dripping down his body as Tony hopped into the driver’s seat, completely unfazed. “I’m not driving anywhere until you take your clothes off, Stephen.” 

_ No problem _ , Stephen thought. It was just the second time that day Tony asked him to remove his clothes in a fairly public place. He removed his shirt carefully, the damp fabric desperately clinging to his skin and then came the tricky part — taking off his underwear. Hitching the towel around his rear, he awkwardly worked his boxer briefs off his hips, not particularly caring for the mischievous leer on Tony’s face. He was enjoying every second of Stephen’s discomfort. 

Wrapping the towel firmly around his waist, he tossed his clothing on the floor behind Tony’s seat and hopped into the car. When he finally buckled in, Tony put the car into drive with a satisfied smirk. This was a first. He’d never been barefoot in a car, let alone buck naked. Tony was completely at ease, lighting up a cigarette and turning up the music on the car stereo. 

He watched Tony rap his fingers on the steering wheel, an imaginary drum set before him, tapping his fingers to the beat. Ash fell from the cigarette in his mouth and Tony didn’t even flinch as the embers fell to his thighs. Inevitably, that drew Stephen’s eyes to the thick member nestled between Tony’s legs. He wasn’t even hard but with a little help from Stephen, he certainly could be…

Tony yanked on the steering wheel when he felt Stephen’s fingers caress his length. The car jerked, swerving dangerously close to the median.

“Are you okay to drive??” Stephen yelped, pulling his hand back quickly.

“ _ Yes, _ mom, I had two beers,” Tony snapped, flipping a finger at a car that honked as they drove by. “I just didn’t expect someone to grab my junk.” 

“Sorry.” They sat in silence for a few moments longer and when Tony resumed singing to the song on the radio, Stephen asked, “Where are we going?” 

“Just a little place I like to go to be alone,” Tony flashed him a smile. “It’s a little out of town, though.”

“Is it a nudist beach?” Stephen hoped so, because looking in the backseat of Tony’s car, it didn’t appear he packed more clothing. 

“No, but no one goes there anyway. You’ll see.” 

They drove down the highway, the music blaring, the smoke from Tony’s cigarettes flowing out of the open windows. The scenery changed from the rolling hills on the outskirts of town to a more densely wooded area. Their altitude had slowly been increasing and Stephen felt his ears pop. Tony pulled the car over at a designated outlook and he and Stephen gazed out the window, in awe of the natural beauty. The Finger Lakes was an incredibly beautiful area, and this time of year, everything was lush and green. They looked out over the lake, and Stephen was shocked at how little the speed boats seemed from the hilltop. He watched a pair race each other across the glossy lake, laughing when a police boat turned on its siren and chased after them. In less populated areas the water was unpoliced, but in the densely-packed vacation home locations, the waterway had speed limits. Stephen thought that was hilarious, but necessary. 

When Stephen had his fill of the scenery, Tony turned the car back on and pulled back onto the road. He patted Stephen’s knee, assuring him that it wouldn’t be much longer. Stephen held his tongue: he knew Tony wouldn’t tell him where they were going, but the longer they drove the more he wondered. There wasn’t a whole lot for entertainment in the outlying towns, certainly nothing that they could do completely naked. 

Tony slowed and drove down a dirt road, the road slowly descending into more woods. At the end of the road he parked and hopped out of the car, throwing his towel over his shoulder. 

“Hope you’re ready for a bit of a hike,” Tony thumped the top of his car and started walking towards a makeshift trail. Stephen wrapped the towel around his waist the best he could and followed Tony, gingerly stepping over roots and upturned rocks. The earth bit into his feet and he couldn’t help but notice how quickly Tony navigated the path, completely unfazed by the uneven terrain. He whistled as he walked, his ass cheeks clenching as the trail became steeper and his feet dug into the ground. Just when Stephen thought he was going to lose his balance, the trail evened out and when they hooked right, a large rock formation revealed what Tony was going after. 

Tony held out his hands like  _ TA-DA _ , grinning widely as Stephen took in the scene before him. He heard it before he saw it, and now the din made sense. They’d walked into a hidden gorge, a natural valley nestled in the hillside. Large sheets of rock reached towards the sky, two walls pressing together to reveal a most spectacular waterfall. It had to be two or three stories high, Stephen guessed, and the stream fell into a large pool of water at the bottom. 

“Is this where you take all the girls?” Stephen wondered aloud, tilting his head to squint at the top of the waterfall. He heard Tony grunt. 

“ _ No _ ,” Tony dropped his towel on the ground and tiptoed across the shale, careful not to slip. “This is where Bucky takes all of his girls. You know, when he pledges his undying love to them and claims they’re the only one for him.” 

“Oh? And how many times has he done that?” 

“I’d say somewhere in the upper fifties?” 

Without warning, Tony jumped into the water. Stephen didn’t even think it was that deep but sure enough, Tony resurfaced moments later. He didn’t know why but he loved the way the water fell down his face; he loved when Tony used both hands to push his hair back and wipe his eyes dry. The way the sun backlit his head and shoulders, highlighting every curve of muscle, made Stephen’s mouth water and he felt like he was in the presence of some sort of god. He bit his lip watching Tony swim around, and when Tony noticed Stephen hadn’t joined him yet, he called out. 

“You gonna jump in or just stand there and jerk off?” 

With a running leap, Stephen shed his towel and dove into the pond. It was a much cooler temperature than the lake, and he kicked around, urging the blood to circulate around his limbs. He saw Tony swimming further away and he caught up to him, grabbing his leg and pulling him under. It quickly became a battle of wills, and Stephen wasn’t sure if they were actively trying to drown each other or just playing around. He was well aware they probably looked like complete idiots but it’s not like anyone was around to judge them. 

Tony briefly captured his lips in a kiss, and with a roguish glint in his eye, pulled Stephen towards the waterfall. Stephen could feel the push and pull as he tread water, the force of the downward spout rippling his skin. Tony led him to the edge, climbing carefully against the rock wall. He helped Stephen find his footing and Stephen followed him to the edge of the waterfall. Tony blinked as the water sprayed in his face, and with one last look at Stephen, he took a step through and disappeared. 

“C’mon!” Tony hollered, his voice echoing. “You gotta see this!” 

Stephen took a deep breath and stepped through the heavy stream. Water pounded against his body only briefly and then he found himself in a small cavern. He could see the outline of Tony’s body, only illuminated by the amount of light that could get through the waterfall. He heard Tony smile and then his mouth was on his, devouring his lips. Tony stepped in closer and Stephen jumped when their cocks made contact, slowly hardening, the skin silky smooth -- but as Tony deepened the kiss he felt Stephen tense. 

“What?” Tony pulled back, his hand still cradling Stephen’s face. “What’s wrong?” 

It was stupid. Tony was going to kill him, probably, but the silliest thought had entered his head and he couldn’t continue until he said it out loud. 

“I… I feel a little like Batman,” Stephen said quietly. He felt Tony let out a huff of air against his lips, a laugh caught in his throat. “I mean, the cave, not --” 

“You’re a dork,” Tony kept kissing him, insistent, and he moaned as Tony began to kiss his way down his throat. “Stop thinking for one moment and just feel me. Feel  _ me _ .” 

Stephen closed his eyes and lifted his chin, letting Tony plant kisses along his neck. His lips were soft, pliant, perfectly molding to the contours of Stephen’s body. One of Tony’s hands massaged his back, the other held Stephen still at the base of his spine. The din of the waterfall encouraged Stephen’s mind to drift until the only thing he could focus on was where Tony’s mouth was, and where it could go next. 

“Feel me,” Tony repeated, his voice a mere whisper. He felt everything about Tony - his chest pressed into his, his hands everywhere, his breath on his skin. He reached between them and took Tony’s length in his hand, marveling at the thickness. It would never get old. 

Within minutes Stephen crouched on his knees, taking Tony’s rigid member into his mouth. He lapped at the head, humming as Tony let out a low moan, the sound echoing through the cave. Stephen could write a goddamn symphony from that, and it encouraged him to take Tony even further. He ignored the pain in his ankles, his only focus on bringing Tony to sweet completion. 

His efforts were thwarted, however, when Tony impatiently tapped at his shoulder and pulled him up. Stephen felt his knees buckle when Tony grabbed him by the nape of his neck and pulled him in for a searing kiss. 

“I want you,” Tony breathed against his lips, and turned him to face the cavern wall. There was no place to hold, water trickling down the rock, and Stephen planted his fingers, wishing he had Spider-Man abilities to grip any surface. He heard Tony spit, and then his fingers were deftly working their way into Stephen’s hole. 

It was dirty, primal. He knew this was Tony’s favorite part — he loved to listen to Stephen moan while his fingers slowly broke down every single barrier Stephen had ever put up. The burn gave way to pleasure and Tony had three fingers in, two knuckles deep when Stephen cried out, feeling the pass of his fingers against his prostate. He was ready.

Tony let out a low growl as he placed himself at Stephen’s entrance. He pushed in, slowly, knowing that Stephen could feel absolutely everything. He nipped at the flesh on Stephen’s shoulder, holding himself in place while Stephen’s taut muscle adjusted to his girth. When he felt Stephen’s hips wiggle, pleading for more, he knew he could push in further.

Stephen knew he was a goner before they started. The angle was new and every thrust hit home. He braced himself awkwardly against the rock wall, his legs slightly bent so Tony could sink deep every time. He couldn’t see Tony’s face, only heard the breathless grunts as he worked his way in, and that alone turned him on. One hand gripped his shoulder, the other held his hip steady -- he knew Tony was just watching himself disappear into Stephen’s body and  _ god _ , the sounds of their lovemaking disappeared into the waterfall. 

Tony stiffened as his orgasm approached, his languid movements suddenly robotic and the pitch of his voice a high keen. Stephen couldn’t wait any longer. He pulled a hand from the wall and began stroking his own cock, trying to keep in rhythm with Tony’s shaky thrusts. 

“I want to feel you cum,” He sighed breathlessly, loving the slight wail that came from Tony’s mouth as he got permission to fuck him with reckless abandon. He felt his balls tighten and he knew the end was near. “Tony, please!” 

Tony pushed into him in earnest. He felt the shale press into his feet, tiny pebbles suddenly feeling like razors but nothing could stop them now. Tony’s breath came out sharp and fast and Stephen could picture his face -- eyebrows furrowed, face completely concentrated on the anticipated moment of bliss. 

“Oh,  _ fuck _ , fuck,” Tony moaned, and that’s all it took for Stephen to cum, his ejaculate coating the slick rock wall and the top of his hand. He felt Tony pulsing within him, and he clenched unconsciously, a low hiss escaping from Tony’s mouth. “Fuck.” 

When Stephen came back down to earth he felt Tony slip out, a pool of liquid immediately gushing down his leg. Tony caught his breath, leaning an arm against the wall when his eyes drifted to a most spectacular display - Stephen’s semen. 

“Is that how cavemen painted walls? Ha,” Tony laughed and dragged his finger through it, bringing it to his lips as Stephen looked at him, disturbed. 

“How is it?” Stephen grimaced, trying not to imagine the plethora of bacteria Tony had just imbibed.

“A bit grainy,” Tony frowned, smacking his lips. He used his finger to scrape at his teeth, his tongue running along the inside of his mouth. After a moment of introspection he suddenly perked up. “Wanna take a shower?” 

Taking one step backwards, Tony stood underneath the waterfall, his hair immediately flattened. He grinned and held out his hand.

  
  
  


“This is it,” Tony flopped onto his back, out of breath. “This is our place now.” 

Stephen couldn’t think of anything to say. His voice seemed to have left his body with his last orgasm and he lay next to Tony, completely boneless. His limbs were sore and he was so tired he didn’t care that he was lying on a bed of rock. Tony had fucked him six ways from Saturday and he was beginning to think if someone were to take a sample of the pond water, they would undoubtedly find his and Tony’s DNA mixed in there months from now. 

“In twenty years, we’ll be sitting in our rocking chairs, laughing and remembering this fucking waterfall,” Tony had a dreamy expression on his face but Stephen couldn’t let that comment slide. Even if Tony was in a post-orgasmic haze it was pretty fucking stupid. 

“We won’t be in rocking chairs twenty years from now, we’ll be in our forties,” Stephen corrected, reaching out to take Tony’s hand in his. 

“Potato, potato.” Tony said flippantly, not even bothering to say the two words differently. They basked in the sun for what seemed like hours, talking and reminiscing. When Tony started to get aroused again Stephen didn’t waste any time, and soon, they were lazily stroking each other’s cocks. There was no rush, no pressure of intimacy. But their moment of peace was interrupted when they heard a small child’s voice behind them.

“What are they doing, Mommy?” 

Tony was the first to react. “Oh, fuck. Run!” 

Scrambling to their feet, they bolted past a stunned family of four, Tony quickly hopping into the woods, while Stephen, for whatever reason, headed straight towards the footpath. He muttered an apology as he ran by, covering his quickly-softening cock with both of his hands. He ran as fast as he could, pushing the balls of his feet firmly into the ground so as not to trip on unruly branches or roll his ankle on an errant rock. He could hear Tony crashing through the woods, whooping and hollering as they ran up hill. 

They met in the clearing where the car was parked, neither stopping to catch their breath. The car was already in drive when Stephen pulled open the door and threw himself into the passenger seat. They didn’t talk, didn’t acknowledge each other until Tony pulled over on the road, miles away from the waterfall. With one look at Stephen, Tony’s face broke out into a grin and then they were both laughing, the exhilaration slowly washing over them. They’d escaped! Tony lit a cigarette and offered a drag to Stephen, and for once, Stephen took it. 

“I thought you said that park would be deserted,” Stephen passed the cigarette back, watching the tendrils of smoke escape out of the open window. His lungs burned and he wasn’t sure if it was from the unexpected cardio or from the cancer stick. 

“Yeah, well… I guess hearing about the place from Barnes should have been the first indicator that wasn’t true,” Tony laughed uneasily as the gravity set in. Stephen groaned into the palm of his hand. He didn’t want to think about how close they were to being put on a list somewhere… they could have been arrested for indecent exposure to minors. After a moment, Tony ashed his cigarette and turned to Stephen, “Something to put in your book, huh?” 

Stephen didn’t think he’d ever mentioned that he’d written about the two of them. Maybe he was just predictable like that. He smiled, not acknowledging Tony’s statement. Even if he  _ was _ writing, one thing was certain -- no one would ever fucking find out what happened at that waterfall.    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! You guys are amazing, seriously.
> 
> Next chap:   
> The music festival / Stephen's final weekend in town :( 
> 
> Leave a comment :)


	34. Happiest Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Music festival, Stephen gets Tony a birthday gift, a farewell brunch with the Bella's crew, Tony sings a personalized song to Stephen... Monday morning comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _I'm really on the ropes this time  
>  I've been fighting all my life for you  
> I never should have said goodbye  
> But maybe that's what stupid people do  
> Thank you for the happiest year of my life  
> _  
> \- Jaymes Young
> 
> This is like three chapters in one. Enjoy :)

“Mic check. Two, one two,” Tony said into the microphone, his voice low. “Rhodey has a baby bottle shoved up his asshole, I repeat, Rhodey has a baby bottle shoved up his asshole.” 

“Dude, why?” Rhodey put down his bass guitar with a sigh. They were setting up the stage for the festival and Stephen laughed as he watched Sam make adjustments for the sound system. Tony had been, to put it lightly, insufferable during the week leading up to the festival. His manic behavior caused him to stay up all hours of the night, writing new songs and jamming until his roommates hollered for him to go to bed. Even then he would refuse, skipping to the basement or the garage if needed to finish working on a song. Stephen often went to bed alone and Tony would only crawl into bed as the sun came up. 

Stephen had his final shift at  _ Bella’s _ the night before. It was difficult not to feel solemn and the only comfort he had was that he and Christine were going to spend the evening hanging out after. Some of their coworkers came over for some drinks, but none of the band members of  _ Stark Naked _ because they were too busy getting ready. Plans were made for a send-off brunch the day after the festival. The Atomic Lounge had just started doing breakfast and it was Carol who suggested it. 

So Stephen had things to look forward to, but a certain sadness seemed to loom overhead and he couldn’t shake it off. He kept himself busy, running errands for Tony with the tour van Bucky had finally fixed. He picked up the beer they ordered from the distributor, ran several times to the hardware store for things he didn’t know existed, and stopped at the bagel shop to get some grub for the guys. Things were falling into place. 

“Where are we at?” Tony asked a little while later. Sam had set up a small office in the kitchen and he frowned as he scrolled through his computer, checking the ticket sales. 

“Not good. We haven’t broken even yet,” Sam turned the screen so Stephen and Tony could see it. They hadn’t sold many, something they feared would happen if they held the music festival after graduation. Nothing could be changed about it now. 

“We’ll get there,” Tony said firmly, patting Sam on the back. He headed out the front door, letting the metal clang loudly as he left. He’d been upbeat all morning but it only took one thing for his mood to go south. Everything depended on this -- the band’s future, Tony maintaining independence from his father. This had to work. All they needed was a miracle. 

  
  
  


The first half of the festival was rather boring. People trickled in and Stephen was overwhelmed with the amount of musicians traipsing around the Tower. He hung by the entrance and checked tickets with Sam. The  _ Bella _ ’s crew weren’t even going to arrive until after the restaurant had closed, and they would probably get there just around the time Tony’s band took the stage. 

Of course, Tony was emceeing the whole thing so Stephen couldn’t really hang out with him if he wanted to. While different bands took the stage, he saw Tony working the crowd, trying to get more people to donate money. Occasionally he would swing by the table Sam and Stephen were at and dropped off handfuls of cash. It wasn’t much. 

“How are we not raking in dough right now? There’s so many people here,” Tony had his hands on his hips, observing the crowd. 

“We don’t have the tightest security ever,” Sam noted, “That gaggle of sorority girls just blew right by me.” 

“They better not steal any beer,” Tony frowned, and Stephen thought that was a cute thought. They didn’t need Tony’s beer. As soon as they got in front of the stage, Stephen saw one of them pull out an entire handle of vodka from their purse. They were here to listen to “free” music and Stephen wondered if the band would meet their goal at all. 

When the sun began to set, Tony dragged Stephen away from the ticket table to the middle of the makeshift dance floor. While Tony danced without a care, Stephen became increasingly conscious of people staring at them. He could feel strangers wondering what on earth this gangly kid was doing dancing with the infamous Tony Stark and he struggled to let loose. Tony didn’t seem to notice. He gave Stephen a peck on the cheek and went to go introduce the next act, Christine’s friends that Stephen hated. 

He listened passively. He always thought they looked a little ridiculous, like grown men stuffed into teenager’s clothing. He hated the way their hair flipped and the way their pants seemed too tight. He even thought the sound of their music was a little annoying, maybe just a little too whiny, but the crowd was really beginning to get into a certain song and he couldn’t help but pay attention to the lyrics. 

_ Ain't it funny how I wanted this all my life? _

_ Ain't it funny how I got it here and it don't seem right? _

_ Ain't it funny how we all want to be someone new? _

_ Ain't it funny how I fell in love and then came June?  
  
_

It was difficult not to feel attacked. The more he listened the more he was beginning to wonder if Christine had told the songwriter about his predicament with Tony. The song felt intensely personal and he scanned the crowd trying to find Tony, wondering if he was hearing the same lyrics. 

_ There you go, you let me walk away _

_ With nothing left to say _

_ Or think, or dream, or feel, or do, or be _

He finally spotted him. Tony was at the far edge of the crowd, surrounded by a group of girls. Typical. He appeared to be in a deep conversation when one of the girls pushed into his chest and Tony threw an arm around her, laughing. Stephen did  _ not _ enjoy the way Tony was looking at her -- his eyes had a way of focusing on someone so entirely that the recipient felt they were the only person in the universe. Stephen loved that. He longed for that. And it wasn’t fucking fair that some random chick was getting the same attention. 

Try as he might to squelch the jealous feelings rising, he couldn’t. He pushed through the crowd and marched towards Tony. It just so happened that Tony saw him coming and excused himself, skipping over to Stephen, hoping for a kiss. Stephen stopped him short and when Tony got close enough, he slid his hand not-so-subtly down the front of Tony’s pants. 

“You have a boner,” Stephen said accusingly. 

“Of course I do. You’re grabbing my dick,” Tony pursed his lips briefly and pushed Stephen off with a playful shove. He fanned a bunch of dollar bills in his hand, happy with his acquisition. “Move, would ya? I gotta get these babies to Sam.” 

Stephen stepped aside. He was slightly angry with himself -- there was nothing he could do to stop Tony from flirting. This was his night, this was his night to prove his dad wrong. He was certain Tony would do anything he could short of selling his body to get the money. If Stephen had Tony’s best interests in mind, he would let Tony do whatever he needed to do. But he felt protective. He had to stop himself from intervening. The last thing he needed was for Tony to be mad at him, but at the same time, the last thing he needed was to get hurt. 

It was a relief when he saw Christine and Nat jump out of Pepper’s car. The others quickly followed; Wanda pretty much leapt out of Scott’s car while he was still driving. Bruce and Rogers were the next to arrive, and lastly, Carol and her partner Maria pulled into the Tower a few minutes later. Stephen was thrilled he finally had friends to talk to. Tony and his band were getting ready to go on in any minute. 

“What’d we miss?” Christine gave him a hug and in exchange, he handed her an ice cold beer. He’d brought over a twelve pack to hand out as everyone got out of their cars, but his plan quickly disintegrated when Scott took the whole thing out of his hands. 

“Um, nothing,” Stephen said, stunned, as he watched Scott puncture a can with his keys, snap open the top, and then shotgunned the whole thing as the rest of them stood there. Scott grabbed a second can and did the exact same thing. “Um…”

“Relax,” Scott wiped beer from his mouth with his forearm. He went to grab another but Pepper ripped the case from him, frowning. “What? I can’t get  _ two  _ OUI’s.” 

“I’ll drive you home, Wan,” Carol said consolingly, taking the teenager towards the crowd. Wanda muttered a  _ ‘thank you’ _ and shot Scott a withering look. When Scott wandered off to go find some more beer, Stephen went back to Scott’s car to grab the keys. Scott was a dumbass, but he was also too trusting and often left his keys directly in the console. Stephen dropped the keys off with Sam and Pepper when he heard applause and cheers erupt from the audience.  _ Stark Naked  _ had taken the stage. 

“Evening everybody!” Tony said into the microphone, his guitar slung on his shoulder. He looked so happy and Sam had just let Stephen know that they broke even. They’d paid for the event, at least. “Thanks for coming out tonight, thank you for supporting us and our friends. If you like what you hear, please go buy our album, or some t-shirts, or you can pay five bucks to make out with my friend Rhodey.” 

The crowd cheered and Rhodey scowled, shaking his head. Clint didn’t waste any time counting them in and soon they began to play a song Stephen hadn’t heard before. It was surprisingly upbeat. A lot of Tony’s songs were sort of melancholy, but he appeared to have turned a new page over the last couple of weeks and the music felt somewhat...happy. 

_ Oh my love, let me be your fire _

_ We're a thousand miles up and I'm 'bout to get higher _

_ Feel my heart beating out my chest _

_ You're the only prayer I need to make me feel blessed _

Christine took his hand and dragged him to the front of the stage. He made eye contact with Tony briefly and he couldn’t get over how good he looked up there. Tony was in his element, he radiated confidence and dripped sex appeal. Stephen tried not to care about the people near the front, desperately reaching out to touch Tony as he paced the stage. Stephen couldn’t lie -- if he wasn’t sleeping with the guy he’d want to touch him, too. 

A few songs in, the stage lights they’d set up were making Tony work up quite the sweat and he simply tore his shirt off mid song. The crowd went  _ wild _ . The girls standing next to him and Christine screamed their heads off, their voices so shrill that Stephen was glad Tony had convinced him to wear ear plugs. Tony winked at him and Stephen blew him a kiss. 

Stephen disappeared to go use the bathroom but when he came back he noticed Tony was having a conversation with a girl offstage. He knelt down to speak with her, an amused grin on his face. Stephen could see she was pleading for something, her hands clasped together almost as if she was praying. As Stephen got closer to the stage he heard tidbits of their conversation.

“...I don’t even remember the words anymore, I’m not playing that song,” Tony made to get up off the ground but the girl reached out, latching onto his ankle. Stephen wanted to go help but soon he saw she was holding several dollar bills in her hand, waving them in Tony’s face. Stephen squinted and he realized that she was flashing him  _ hundreds _ . Tony swallowed, his eyes following the money, and he bit his lip and took the cash, stuffing it in his pants. The girl squealed and went back to her group of friends. Tony spoke with his band, his hand covering the microphone, and they slowly nodded, unsure. 

“Follow my lead,” Tony cleared his throat and slowly counted the others in. Within the first few notes Stephen recognized the song. 

_ Ignition on this wonderful night of submission _

_ Do promises break when he's away from home? _

Tony and his band had dozens of songs. Stephen wouldn’t be surprised if they had a hundred songs. So out of their entire repertoire, why did this silly girl have to request  _ this _ song? It was the last thing Stephen wanted to hear. All he could think of was Tony on the floor of Thor’s cabin, barely conscious, barely alive. 

_ You needed someone else to help you forget the reason _

_ You fell for me at all, in this hell of a season _

_ If I spend the night in the gaze of strange eyes _

_ Would you mind, dear? _

He still had never spoken to Tony about that song. Stephen had filed it away under one of Tony’s drunken escapades and he never wanted to think about it again. But now that he was faced with the lyrics he felt crushed. Had Tony written this when he heard that Stephen had slept over at Rogers’? Or was this predicting the future? 

_ You said before you felt lonely _

_ So how does it feel now that you don't own me? _

Stephen couldn’t. He slipped out of the crowd and made a beeline for the detached garage, hoping no one was around so he could just sit and be alone. He couldn’t escape the music; they’d done a wonderful job setting up the speakers and the sound was crystal clear even a quarter of a mile away. He heard Tony’s last doleful notes and he scrunched his eyes shut, trying not to imagine the circumstances that caused him to write those words. Would Stephen mind if Tony slept with someone else? Yes, he fucking would. 

Christine came looking for him. The band had stepped away for a few minutes to take a break and she was worried when Stephen didn’t come back. She kicked over a crate and sat next to him, handing him a freshly opened beer. He couldn’t even bring himself to take a sip, his mind paralyzing him with the constant barrage of  _ what if _ …? 

“He loves you, I know he does,” she said earnestly, “I can tell by the way he looks at you.” 

He didn’t respond. Tony said it all of the time but that little seed of doubt had wormed his way back into his heart and he couldn’t ignore it. He heard the little blip of someone picking up their guitar and accidentally hitting the strings. They were back. Christine squeezed his hand and urged him to go back or they’d miss the last few songs. He promised to join her in a few, he just wanted to be alone for a little while longer. 

The crowd cheered and Stephen heard Tony’s voice over the microphone. He let them know that they were still short of their goal but it was never too late to dig into their shallow-ass pockets and donate. Stephen heard the tinge of desperation in his voice and knew he should be standing in front of the stage, giving Tony all of his support. 

With a deep breath, he stood and began walking across the lawn to head back towards the stage. He heard Tony telling some sort of story and he hoped it wasn’t about him. Stephen weaved his way back to the front of the crowd, finally rejoining his friends. He was surprised to see that Tony had pulled his keyboard to centerstage. 

Tony’s expression was dead serious. The audience had become supremely quiet; Stephen could have heard a pin drop. Whatever Tony had said had set the mood and when they began to play, the notes seemed to resonate as if they were in the Sistine Chapel. Tony’s voice rang out true and pure. 

_ It comes and goes in waves _

_ It always runs back, but it's never quite the same _

_ Well, I think there's something wrong with me _

_ Got nothing to believe, can't you see it on my face? _

Not for the first time, Stephen wanted to jump on stage and give Tony a hug. He’d heard this tune when he was laying in bed waiting for Tony to join him, but he’d never heard the words. Tony was incredibly private when he was writing and Stephen never pushed him to share. Tony’s voice got louder and stronger as he sang the chorus:

_ When it pulls me under _

_ Will you make me stronger? _

_ Will you be my breath through the deep, deep water? _

_ Take me farther, give me one day longer _

_ Will you be my breath through the deep, deep water? _

Was this a plea? Was this him calling out for Stephen? There was no way this wasn’t written with him in mind. There were so many questions running through his head and he was half tempted to leap onto the stage and ask Tony what it all meant. He could hear the pain in Tony’s voice and he wanted nothing more than to kiss him and take it all away. 

_ Ain't even scratched the surface _

_ Thinking I deserve the dream _

_ But I don't deserve the hurting _

_ I want the flame without the burning _

_ But I can't find my purpose _

_ When I don't know what my worth is _

He knew Tony was facing an uncomfortable crux in his life. The uncertainty of how the festival would go hung over their heads for months and it hadn’t been easy dealing with the aftermath of Howard. Stephen still hated him, hated how difficult he had made Tony’s life, and for taking it out on the band. He’d spent the last couple of months making sure Tony (literally) kept his head above water. He needed a win so badly. 

When the song came to an end it was met with a thunderous applause. Tony had really bared his heart and soul -- it had a different feel than most of his other songs and the audience was moved by the heartfelt performance. Stephen clapped, trying to blink away the tears forming in his eyes. Tony’s gaze landed on him and he smiled, but then his eyes flitted away and Stephen followed his eyeline to see a blonde head bobbing through the crowd, a scene achingly familiar to the first show Stephen ever saw. 

Pepper parted the crowd, holding her phone high above her head. Tony held out his hand and pulled her on to the stage. She was so excited she looked like she was about to explode. She jumped into Tony’s arms and he hugged her back, bewildered. 

“Thor just donated five thousand dollars!” She practically shrieked, her arms still around Tony’s neck. 

“What?” Tony wrestled the phone out of her hand and tried to speak to Thor. “Hey buddy, this you?”

“Did anyone ever tell him you broke in and ransacked his place?” Rhodey said loudly and Tony shot him a glare. “Broke his lock? Fucked up his door?”

“Shut  _ up _ .” Tony stayed on the phone for a minute, smiling widely, and when he hung up, Pepper beamed. 

“You met your goal! You guys can go on tour!” She clapped her hands together excitedly and yelped in surprise when Bucky leant her backwards over his arm and kissed her for everyone to see. Tony laughed and hopped off the stage, marching straight towards the person who mattered to him the most. Stephen had barely taken in a breath when Tony descended on him, capturing his lips in the most exhilarating kiss they’d shared thus far. He felt the joy, the relief, the happiness in his lover’s kiss and he melted into Tony’s arms, quite unaware of the wolf whistles and hollering surrounding them. 

“ _ Yay _ ,” was the only thing he managed to say as Tony had stolen all of the breath from his lungs and seemed to take it with him as he leapt back onto the stage. He let out triumphant scream and Bucky immediately started playing the next song. Tony kicked his keyboard out of the way and slung his guitar strap around his neck, joining Bucky as soon as he could. 

“This is just a fuck you to my dad,” Tony said breathlessly, a faint smile on his lips. As he began to sing he looked like he was going to eat the microphone. Stephen knew he was overflowing with energy and he just wanted to jump and scream. It led to a memorably energetic performance from the entire band. Bucky danced more than Stephen had ever seen, even Rhodey seemed to bounce more than usual. Clint could have flown away from his drummer’s stool and Tony was all over the place. He barely needed the microphone he was singing so loudly. 

_ I'll just keep believing _

_ One day I'll be king _

_ Say it loud enough _

_ I ain't going nowhere _

_ You can't break me down _

_ One day, one day I'll be king _

The song came to a part where the only sounds were coming from Clint’s drum kit. Tony clapped his hands over his head, urging the crowd to join him. People were hyped, totally entranced with what was going on on stage. Tony silenced everyone for one moment and he sang the next lines so loud and clear Stephen was sure Howard felt a tingling in his ear. 

_ I control my destiny _

_ I'm not the man I used to be _

_ Tonight it's here for everyone to see _

_ I WILL BE KING! _

The crowd went nuts. Stephen didn’t generally watch sports, but he imagined this was how people felt when their teams finally won. Scott had jumped onto the stage and was prancing around Tony, tripping over the cords and face planting just as the song ended. Everything about it was perfect and Stephen laughed as Scott scrambled to his feet. He was so glad he stole his keys. 

_ Stark Naked _ played a few more songs to finish their set. When they finished a DJ took over the stage and Tony was drenched in sweat. A girl nervously approached him to give him his shirt back (the one he’d tossed so carelessly offstage), and he used it to wipe his chest off and handed it back. Stephen scoffed. Total rockstar move right there, but the girl seemed pleased and disappeared into the crowd. 

It soon became apparent that no one was planning on going to bed anytime soon and people might be around until the sun came up. He just wanted to have five minutes alone with Tony but he was constantly surrounded by people, either other musicians or random townies or gaggles of college students. Annoyed, Stephen decided to take the bull by his horns and just grabbed Tony by the wrist and dragged him to the garage. 

“What’s up?” Tony waggled his eyebrows and Stephen shot him a look that he hoped said,  _ no, I am not going to give you a blowjob right now _ . He held Tony’s hands in his and cleared his throat. 

“I was going to wait until we were alone but that looks like that’s not going to happen tonight.”

“Yeah probably not,” Tony smiled. Stephen dug into his pockets and shoved something into Tony’s hand. His voice caught in his throat and Tony looked down to see what Stephen had given him. “A ring?”

“It’s not what you think,” Stephen said quickly, trying to soothe the amused look on Tony’s face. It was silver and rough, Stephen had spent the better part of the month hammering at it and he recruited Bucky to help him finish it. “I thought since it’s your twenty-fifth birthday, it’d be fitting to make you a ring out of a quarter. I was halfway done with it when I realized the implications might seem a little steep --”

“Stephen…” Tony’s voice was so soft and Stephen steamrolled right through, not wanting to hear if he had anything bad to say. 

“...and I mean if you don’t like it or want it, that’s fine, I think it’ll fit one of my fingers or you can chuck it in the lake, I don’t really care, I guess it’s yours now --”

“ _ Stephen _ ,” Tony grabbed his shoulders and steadied him, forcing Stephen to look him in the eye. “I love it. Thank you.”

“Happy birthday, Tony.”

Tony planted a chaste kiss on his lips and with one reassuring glance, he slid the ring onto his ring finger. It fit perfectly. Taking Stephen’s hand in his, he dragged Stephen back to the party. It was going to be a long night. 

* * *

“Cheers to Stephen!” 

The first round of mimosas had been poured. Several pitchers littered the table and Stephen wasn’t usually a fan of day drinking, but whatever. Half the gang was extraordinarily hungover and the only solution was to drink more alcohol. It was Stephen’s last full day in town and he was surrounded by his friends. He couldn’t have been happier. 

“Thank you for coming and saving our asses,” Christine leaned her head on his shoulder. “We couldn’t have gotten through this year without you.” 

“I highly doubt that,” He smirked as he brought the champagne flute to his lips. Christine always sang his praises too much. 

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Tony smiled at him and leaned back in his chair, taking a sip from his orange juice. 

“Yeah, sell yourself  _ tall _ ,” Scott leaned in from across the table and gave Stephen the most exaggerated wink he had ever seen. Beside him, Clint rolled his eyes and let out a groan.

“Scott, shut up.” 

The conversation around the table was difficult to follow. At one point Bucky was grilling him, asking about his plans for the future and then that turned into a spat between Bucky and Clint. He could overhear Wanda and Christine chatting animatedly about some new tv show, Pepper and Bruce were having an incredibly boring conversation about financials, and Tony just sat there, quiet as a mouse.

“I’m happy to report that  _ Bella _ ’s had its best quarter in five years,” Pepper said loudly, addressing the entire table. “That’s the busiest we’ve ever been for graduation week.” 

“All because of you, Pep!” Someone hollered and Tony harrumphed.

“Like, twelve percent,” He folded his arms and stared at the far end of the table where his ex / boss sat, glaring back at him from underneath her blonde bangs. 

“Only twelve?” 

“I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again,” Tony held up his finger to emphasize his point, “The best thing you ever did was fire that fat fuck Stane, and, not to toot my own horn, but we had the best menu and the best year ever.”

Stephen didn’t miss Tony’s sideways glance at him. 

“He trained you,” Pepper said dryly.

“He trained me  _ incorrectly _ .” 

“Well, cheers to  _ Bella _ ’s,” Stephen cleared his throat and raised his glass. “Long may she reign!” 

“And cheers to  _ Stark Naked _ ,” Pepper added, sticking her tongue out at Tony before she looked at the rest of the bandmates, “You guys played wonderfully yesterday and I’m sure you’ll go far.”

“You could, y’know, try to sound sincere,” Tony made a face at her but the rest of the crew raised their glasses and ‘ _ Cheers’ _ rang out around the table. When the food finally arrived, Stephen found himself famished and ate happily, listening to the titter around the table. At one point the server came around and offered to take a picture of the whole group and Stephen was thrilled he’d have some photographic evidence of this time in his life. 

When the food was gone and the crew got their last round of mimosas, Stephen had a pleasant buzz going. Christine kept topping off his drink with more prosecco and he didn’t stop her -- not like he had anything better to do later besides pack. As the conversation got louder and the crew became more rowdy, it suddenly became apparent that Tony was completely silent, sitting next to Stephen, listening intently. 

“You’re quiet,” Stephen observed. Tony had been sitting with his arm loosely hanging off of Stephen’s chair for the past half hour, barely moving. 

“I’m just happy, that’s all,” He smiled, his eyes dropping to Stephen’s lips. He leaned in to whisper into Stephen’s ear. “You know what the best part of my year was?”

“What?”

“Meeting you,” He planted the softest kiss on Stephen’s cheek and settled back into his chair, content for once to be a wallflower.

  
  


Tony walked Stephen home after the brunch. It took over an hour, the Atomic Lounge was a few miles away from Stephen’s apartment. Stephen grabbed Tony’s hand whenever he could, only letting go when Tony needed to light a cigarette. The breakfast was nice but as the sun crept back towards the horizon Stephen became increasingly aware of the hours they had left. Hours. 

It didn’t help that Tony had to work that evening. He honestly hated Pepper for that, but thanks to the festival, Tony’s schedule was all sorts of messed up. They kissed on the steps to Stephen’s apartment and Stephen watched him walk away again, off to go hike the hill to work. 

Christine was working, too, so Stephen found himself alone in his apartment. He blared his music over his bluetooth speaker, putting on comforting pop songs while he packed. Christine’s car couldn’t fit that much so he tried to sort things that he could give away or leave to Christine. He knew she’d be moving in a few months, too, so it was better just to set aside a pile for donation. 

He’d shown up with just a couple of suitcases so he wasn’t quite sure how he’d accumulated so much junk. Kitchen supplies were a necessary purchase and he desperately needed those in New York. His roommate already had an apartment but based on the photos he sent, it was pretty barren. The kitchen was one third the size of the one he currently shared with Christine. Maybe it was a blessing that her car didn’t fit that much -- the apartment in New York was beginning to seem incredibly small. 

His future roommate, Tom, was a fellow medical student at Columbia. He had the same pre-clinical internship that Stephen did so at least they had that much in common. They spoke briefly on the phone and that seemed to be enough to convince Tom that Stephen would be a good fit. The best thing was that Tom had already spent five years in New York City, so he could show Stephen around. If he had even just one friend, the city might seem a little less daunting. 

But Stephen didn’t want to think about the next day. He didn’t want to think about having to unload Christine’s car on a busy street, he didn’t want to think about meeting someone new and having to make friends all over again. He spent hours pouring over maps of New York City and he knew he could find his way around, but it made him tired just thinking about it. He just wanted to press the ‘pause’ button on his life and when Tony came over later, he didn’t want to waste a second. 

  
  
  


He was startled when he heard a loud tapping on his bedroom window. Tony was standing there, begging to be let in, but Stephen couldn’t understand why he didn’t just use the front door. 

“It’s for old time’s sake!” Tony said, his voice muffled by the pane of glass. “Let me in! Unlock this puppy.” 

“ _ Use the door _ ,” Stephen repeated. He didn’t want to get out of bed. Why the hell didn’t Tony just come home when Christine did? 

“I’ll sing,” Tony threatened, his eyebrows raised. “I’ll sing so loud the entire neighborhood will hear.” 

“No, you won’t,” Stephen settled back into his bed, ignoring him. He heard Tony mutter, ‘ _ Alright, then _ ’, and he was surprised he could hear Tony inhale so loudly through the window. Soon, Tony was belting a song at the top of his lungs in a voice that would be better suited for opera, rather than the crude lyrics he apparently made up on the spot:

_ STEPHEN YOUR BUTTHOLE IS SO LOVELY _

_ YOU SUCK COCK LIKE A FUCKING KING _

_ WHEN WE MAKE LOVE,  _

_ YOU LIKE TO SCREAM WHEN I PUT IT IN _

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Stephen threw open the window sash and grabbed at Tony’s shirt but the stubborn idiot pulled away, not wanting to leave his song unfinished.

_ STEPHEN STRANGE IN APARTMENT B _

_ AT 4-2-3 NORTH AURORA STREET _

_ WHEN YOU GET HIM IN THE DARK _

_ HE’LL TELL YOU HE LOVES TONY STARK  
  
_

“Can you fucking stop it?” Stephen hoped none of his neighbors were awake, and if they were, that they were watching a tv show or something. He half climbed out of the window and grabbed Tony by the waist of his jeans, not caring if he hurt him as he dragged him inside. Tony flailed as he fell through the window and Stephen unapologetically began to close the window while his feet still dangled at the sill. Tony was giggling, clearly proud of his little stunt, and Stephen yanked off his shoes while he tried to figure out which way was up. 

“Not funny,” Stephen huffed. Tony flopped his legs onto the bed, undoing his pants like nothing happened.

“I didn’t hear you denying anything I said,” Tony flashed him that famous shit-eating grin and Stephen pinched his cheek, hard. “Ow!” 

Stephen sat back on his pillow and looked at the half-dressed man sprawled before him. He was rubbing at the spot Stephen had just pinched, a smirk still pasted on his face. It seemed to be there permanently, but Stephen still loved it anyway. He loved the fuck out of Tony and there weren’t enough words he could say that could express that. 

Feigning annoyance, he sighed loudly and crossed his arms. “I suppose there’s one thing you could do to make it up to me.” 

“What’s that?” Tony bit his lip, his eyes wrinkling as he guessed what Stephen could mean.

“Shut up and fuck me.”

  
  
  


Stephen had been a bit lewd but Tony knew he was just being sassy. Stephen didn’t want to get fucked, he wanted to be loved and that’s exactly what Tony did. He took his time, the entire act seeming ceremonious instead of their usual frenzy. He peppered Stephen’s body with kisses and made him feel entirely worshipped. They stared into each other’s eyes as they peaked together and Stephen felt their last night was magical.

It wasn’t until later when Stephen was curled up on Tony’s chest that he began to question things. Tony had fallen asleep when Stephen shook him, his insecurities finally catching up with him. Tony groaned in protest but Stephen was insistent. He had to say things, and he had to say them now. 

“We can make it work,” He poked Tony’s rib cage to get a reaction. “We can make it work, right?” 

“What?” Tony said, his voice thick with sleep. “Where is this coming from?”

“You said you’ve never met anyone like me. And I know I’ll never meet anyone quite like you. Isn’t that enough? If you love me, isn’t that enough --” He was rambling, he could hear it. But suddenly his instinct of self-preservation went into overdrive and he couldn’t stop the word vomit coming out of his mouth. He sat up and Tony looked at him then, his face a picture of immense sorrow.

“Stephen…” 

“I know you said long-distance doesn’t work, but if this is the real thing, don’t you think we could be the exception?” He was near frantic, desperately clinging to his words, hoping if he said it out loud it meant everything was true. “I mean, how hard is it to not get your dick wet? I can’t even imagine jerking off without you, seems insane, I just don’t see how this couldn’t work.”

“Are you listening to yourself?” Tony’s voice broke as he noticed a big fat tear rolling down Stephen’s cheek. His face fell and he pulled Stephen onto his chest, his voice dropping to a mere whisper. “I told you. I  _ told  _ you… Stephen…” 

The dam broke and Stephen couldn’t hold back any longer. He tried to stop the tears from coming but they barrelled out with any regard to the stern facade Stephen had held onto for so long. Tony’s chest rose and fell purposefully, and Stephen wondered if he, too, was trying to hold back. But he couldn’t tell because his body was shuddering, shaking, his sobs coming out mangled and unrestrained. The last thing he wanted was for Tony to see him ugly cry. 

“We just have to make it through the summer,” Stephen reasoned, telling himself more than the man holding him in his arms, “When the tour ends, if you happen to wind up in New York, then we can pick things up again like the summer never happened.” 

“Sure, honey,” Tony agreed quietly, his grip loosening ever so slightly on Stephen’s shoulder. “When we meet again.” 

Stephen held onto him as tight as he could and he begged for Tony to take him one last time. He tried not to cry, there wasn’t a whole lot more unattractive than one person sobbing in the middle of sex. Tony was stoic, silent, whispering  _ I love you _ in his ear when Stephen finished. He cradled Stephen in his arms and that’s how Stephen fell asleep, fretfully, hours later. 

When he woke, Tony was gone. He reached out across his bed; it was still warm. The pain from the night before reared its ugly head and his stomach lurched at the realization. Tony was  _ gone _ . Gone. He’d fucking left while Stephen was sleeping and all he wanted was one last kiss. He wanted to hear his voice, feel his warm skin, he just wanted Tony to appear. He sent one text, but if that’s how Tony wanted to leave, he wasn’t expecting a response. As he packed the last of his things, he noticed a note that had fallen between his bed stand and the wall. 

_ Good-byes aren’t really my thing.  _

_ See you in New York. - xoxo TS   
  
  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Tony did that. 
> 
> **Songs** :  
> June by Briston Maroney  
> Oh My Love by the Score  
> Would You Mind by Friday Pilots Club  
> Deep Water by American Authors  
> King by SAINT PHNX
> 
> Next chap:   
> Stephen's summer in NYC  
> Does Stephen get to see Tony?
> 
> Leave a comment :)


	35. Missed Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen gets close to his new roommate and adjusts to life in the city. Stephen and Tony struggle to stay in contact. Will they get to see each other before summer ends?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _If I never come through  
>  Don't tell me I lost a step  
> Criss-crossed in the wrong direction  
> Found myself in a conversation  
> From a missed connection  
> _  
> \- The Head and the Heart

“ _Yo. You’ve reached Tony Stark. Suck it._ ” 

Voicemail. The _beep_ seemed to go on for eternity and at first, Stephen struggled to speak. 

“Um… hi. We’re leaving now, just thought I’d give you a call. I uh, got your note,” He paused. Christine was waiting for him to get into the car and he just didn’t know what to say. “I love you. Bye.”

Christine didn’t say anything about it as she drove. She chatted away happily and when it became too much Stephen turned up the music. So much had happened in the past few days he found it difficult to process. He was elated for Tony and his band but he couldn’t help but feel disappointed in how Tony left. Was it too much to ask to have a real good-bye? 

Tony had an intimacy problem. Hell, it took him months just to snuggle. But Stephen thought they’d been making progress. He tried not to take it personally -- he knew Tony was going through a lot, blah blah blah. But Stephen was too, and he just wanted the extra support as he moved to a new city. 

Having Christine around helped immensely. She kept his spirits high as they approached New York City, laughing and singing like they always did. Things didn’t feel real or serious until they were on the George Washington Bridge and finally left New Jersey. Stephen had finally arrived and he was staring at the next six years of his life. 

“Are you nervous?” Christine turned down the music slightly, shooting Stephen an intrepid glance as other cars whizzed by. 

_Quite_ . _Dreading it. Petrified_. 

“Not much,” Stephen lied. He wished he’d given himself some more time to settle in. He only had a day and a half to unpack and then his internship would start. He’d heard terrible things about it on student discussion boards -- the hours were long, the tasks were grueling or boring. But, there were chances to meet with several different physicians and it was a good opportunity to network with other students. At least he was going to get paid. 

“You’re going to be amazing,” She said, her voice comforting and full of fondness. “And I’m supremely jealous of you. I wish I’d gotten an internship too, but hey. I got a trip to the city out of it.” 

Stephen smiled for her and turned to look at the expanse of the city out of his window. The skyscrapers were the tallest things he’d ever seen, each block looking orderly and neat. From a distance the city looked way too much like a play train set and Stephen half expected a toddler to come from the sky and pick up the pieces. 

And Tony grew up here. Tony’s dad had a penthouse somewhere overlooking Central Park. He tried to imagine what kind of trouble teenage Tony got into over the summers when he wasn’t at private school. It was kind of a surprise he’d been almost arrested only once, but maybe that was a lie. Maybe everything Tony said was a lie. Stephen tried not to wallow too much but then his phone buzzed as Christine turned onto the Henry Hudson Parkway.

**TONY** :   
Hey, sorry. I’m about to go to work. Call you after?

Just like that, Stephen’s hopes soared high again. Tony wasn’t avoiding him, he was just busy. He clung to that notion as he and Christine unpacked her car and they met his new roommate. If they could make it through the summer, they could make it through anything. 

  
  
  


Staying in contact was easier said than done. Stephen was incredibly busy and Tony was either driving, rehearsing, playing a concert, or partying. It was difficult to find a common time when they were both awake to talk, and their text conversations were sporadic and short. They constantly played phone tag and eventually Stephen had more missed calls from Tony than ones where they actually connected. 

It didn’t help that Tom, Stephen’s new roommate, was a happy hour junkie. He loved to drag Stephen to new bars around the city and Stephen knew it wasn’t healthy, but they often went home wasted before 9PM. They’d meet up with other interns and drink steadily for hours. That was just their way of coping with the monotony of their jobs. 

**TONY** :

Where are you?? I called 

**STEPHEN** :

Sorry! Out

**TONY:**

On a Tuesday? Are you with Tom

**STEPHEN** :

Where are you?

**TONY** :

Phoenix. Are you with Tom

Of course he was with Tom. Stephen didn’t go many places _without_ Tom and it made him wonder if he had an extremely codependent personality. Somehow, magically, Tom and Stephen became _the people_ to go out with. It didn’t make much sense - Tom was nerdier than Stephen. He was shorter, had a stockier frame than Stephen and he had spiky blond hair. His olive green eyes were framed with horn-rimmed glasses and his eyebrows sat so high on his face he wore a constant look of surprise. He loved computer games and dabbled in martial arts, he purchased musical instruments but never learned how to play them. He should have been an introvert but something about Stephen made him want to go out and explore the city. 

Maybe it was because at some point Stephen told their friends he was dating a rock star. One of the girls had pressed him for details and it slipped out that he was dating Tony Stark. _The_ Tony Stark. The reluctant probable heir of the Stark Industries fortune. Stephen knew Tony would balk at that, he didn’t want anything to do with Howard ever again. For whatever reason, Stephen’s new friend group really leaned into that and things changed. Stephen was undeniably _cool_. 

Tom latched onto the new social habits like a leech in a pond. Looking back at it, Stephen might have realized Tom was parading him around like a prize to be won. It made Stephen feel special -- he was getting attention, a lot of it, and maybe that contributed to his inflating ego. 

But there was still something missing. Maybe that’s why he fell so deeply into his new persona. If he drank himself silly, if he met new people, just _maybe_ he could fill the void left in his heart. He missed Tony. He missed Christine. He missed the _Bella_ ’s crew. He missed the comfort and the familiarity of the small town, but he was in the city and every corner was new and untrodden territory. 

He’d call or text Tony before he went to bed. He knew Tony was playing a show or doing something else but he just had to express himself. If the texts were shorter than 100 characters Tony would answer. The voicemails went largely unresponded to, and Stephen accepted that. Not that he could remember what he’d said anyways. 

**STEPHEN** :

Miss me yet?

**TONY** : 

I miss that tight ass of yours

half kidding

Miss ya every day sweetcheeks

The band’s social media was the only way Stephen could keep track of where Tony was. Sam posted religiously every day, and pictures of the shows went up the morning after. He’d post little behind the scenes photos and Stephen liked every single one. They looked happy, fulfilled, and tired. Tony looked hot as ever, sporting tank tops that showed off his muscular shoulders and arms. He smiled when he noticed the ring on Tony’s finger. When it disappeared he asked about it -- Tony told him it was causing too much of a _stir_ and their tiny fan base was upset by the suggestion. He wore it on a chain around his neck instead, and Stephen was just happy it hadn’t disappeared entirely. Sometimes, Stephen would get lost scrolling through the photos before he went to bed, wishing, hoping, that he could be with Tony just for one night. 

Tom witnessed this longing. He saw it in Stephen’s face every day and he did all that he could to distract him. They’d become friends fast, mostly thanks to alcohol, but they had some shared interests and hobbies. One of those hobbies included cruising gay bars -- Tom had never explicity stated his preferences but they’d gone to enough piano bars that Stephen could hazard a guess. Stephen made the perfect wingman -- he’d lure people in and send them towards his roommate. Tom had tried exactly once to send Stephen home with someone that they met but Stephen shot him down, quickly. 

From that point on, Tom acted as a counter-wingman. If he ever saw Stephen getting hit on, he’d swoop in and pretend to be his boyfriend. It was a perfect ruse. Stephen flinched if anyone else touched him but with Tom it was okay. They were friends, maybe even best friends, but he didn’t mind if (for the sake of show) Tom placed his hand on his lower back, or if he caressed his cheek in public. It was all pretend. 

It all culminated sometime in late July when Tom and Stephen went to a gay bar, _Flaming Saddles_. It was like the male-version of Coyote Ugly. Beefy men in cowboy hats danced on countertops, shitty country music played on the jukebox. Stephen was having an absolute ball watching his roommate make a fool of himself and when the bartender came around pouring tequila directly into people’s mouths, Stephen figured why the hell not. 

He didn’t black out very often in public. It was scary to do that in the city but the only positive was that he had Tom to watch his back. Something about that night tipped his inhibitions and Stephen woke to find himself dancing on the bar. He panicked looking into the sea of faces before him, not a familiar one in the bunch. He climbed off the counter as soon as he could amid boos and hisses from the crowd. He must have been doing something they liked because as soon as his feet touched the floor a large man came up to him and pulled him close. 

“ _You looked so delicious up there. I could just eat you up_ ,” The man growled salaciously in his ear. He was not apologetic about pressing his hardness into Stephen’s stomach, his arm wrapped firmly around Stephen’s waist. He nipped at Stephen’s ear, continuing his verbal assault. “ _I bet you’d look real good sitting on my massive cock._ ” 

“N-no thank you,” Stephen tried to wriggle out of his grasp but to no avail. The man simply laughed, peppering kisses down Stephen’s throat as he turned. He began to sweat when he felt the man drag his tongue the length of his neck. 

“Hey!” A familiar voice rang in his ear and he felt a wave of relief as he saw Tom tapping the man on the shoulder. He tried to look imposing, puffing his little chest and standing with a hand on his hip. “He has a boyfriend.” 

“Yeah?” The man challenged, somehow looking even taller than before. “Prove it.” 

Stephen was too busy thinking about how he didn’t have a say in any of this when Tom grabbed his head and planted his lips directly on his. He felt the grip around his waist loosen and as the kiss deepened, the man had pretty much released Stephen from his grasp. Tom pulled away slowly, his face looking slightly alarmed at what he’d just done. 

“Fine,” The man relented. He reached into his skin-tight pants and pulled out a business card, shoving it into Stephen’s unwilling hand. He shot a dirty look at Tom and directly addressed Stephen, “When he fucks up, and he will… call me.” 

With a wink, the tall man disappeared back into the crowd and Stephen let out the breath he was holding. He stared down at the card in his hand.

**RICHARD FROM THE BAR**

555-509-3892

_If you’re looking for a good time_

_call the Master_

“Yikes,” Tom breathed out a sigh of relief. “That was a close one, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Stephen said quietly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Maybe the tequila had fogged his brain but he was inexplicably turned on, and he didn’t know from what. He avoided looking Tom in the eye and when Tom shoved another drink in his hand, he gulped it down without a second thought. 

  
  


He needed grounding. He needed confirmation. He kind of needed to throw up but after Tom went to bed, he stumbled to the kitchen and poured himself another glass of vodka. This wasn’t healthy, this wasn’t good -- but he knew the only thing that would make him feel better was if he heard Tony’s voice. It was 2AM on a Saturday morning, he’d probably be up. Stephen was usually asleep at this time but maybe Tony would actually pick up. He was elated when the line clicked and he heard Tony answer with a confused _“Hullo_?” 

“I miss you,” He slurred into the phone. The glass of water he was holding was shaking in his hand, spilling liquid down his front. He steadied himself by leaning against the fridge. 

“Well I miss you too,” Tony said, “But why are you calling so late? Are you drunk?”

“Real drunk.” 

“Maybe you should go to bed.”

_HA_ ! Tony Stark, king of the night, was telling him to go to _bed._ The irony made Stephen giggle and he said the first thing that popped into his alcohol-riddled brain. 

“I want to suck your dick.”

“Can you fly out to Santa Barbara really quick?” He could practically hear Tony smirk through the speaker. 

“No. Send me a picture.”

“Absolutely _not_ ,” Tony huffed, and Stephen smiled until he heard a woman’s voice in the background. “ _Tony where are you? Come back_.”

“Who was that?” Stephen snapped, suddenly alert. 

“Nobody.” He heard Tony shuffling around. A smack. A woman’s laugh. “ _Get out! I said I’d be back in a minute. Jesus Christ._ ” 

“You fuckin’ somebody?” Stephen pressed, not sure if Tony had his ear to the phone or not. He felt a surge of jealousy when Tony took a minute to respond. The fuck was he doing, anyway? A door closed shut. 

“ _No_ , Jesus,” Tony responded finally. He was clearly irritated. “What’s wrong with you? Are _you_ fuckin’ somebody?”

“No,” Stephen bristled. He wasn’t fucking someone, but if Tom didn’t come save him at the bar, well… he shuddered to think what might have happened. 

“Well alright then,” Tony sighed. He was fumbling with something, the connection started to crackle when he spoke again. “Listen… we shouldn’t talk right now. Call me when you’re sober.”

“But I love you and I want to be with you,” Stephen practically whined. The last shot of vodka was catching up to him and he felt his emotions surfacing, deep wells of depression pooling in his veins. 

“I want to be with you too, but--”

“I want to be with you forever,” He pouted and slid down to the floor. Why couldn’t he just invent a transportation pod? He just wanted Tony next to him, he wanted to cuddle, he wanted to talk, he wanted to get fucked. 

“Stephen…”

“And ever and ever and ever,” Stephen continued, ignoring Tony’s protests. “We should just get married and make it final. ‘Til death do us part.” 

“I gotta go,” Tony said shortly, “Call me in the morning, okay?” 

“I love you.”

“Drink some water.” With a click, he hung up.

Defeated, Stephen rolled onto the floor and stared at the kitchen ceiling. Everything about this was unbelievably fucked up and he felt completely powerless. Tony was on the other side of the country, probably about to fuck some groupie he’d just met, and Stephen was lying on the floor of his kitchen drunk as all hell. It was like his college boyfriend all over again. One day Tony would call him up and declare that he was over it — that he didn’t want to be with Stephen anymore because he found someone else. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be different. It was supposed to be better. Stephen was supposed to be better. 

  
  


He was too embarrassed to call Tony back. His black out at the bar had been somewhat of a wake-up call and he admitted he really needed to get his shit together before school started. His performance at his internship was slipping and he needed to focus. He wanted to wait for Tony to reach out but he never did. A couple of weeks after their phone call, Stephen sent a simple text. 

**STEPHEN** :

How’s the west coast?

**TONY** :

So warm. You’d burn in three seconds.

**STEPHEN** :

You guys find a place to live when the tour is over?

**TONY** :   
Nope

He was comforted by the fact that he wasn’t the only one trudging intrepidly into the future. Granted, his path was pretty clear cut from here on out -- four years of medical school, seven years of residency if he played his cards right. At least he knew where he’d be living in the fall. 

If Tony was concerned about his future he certainly didn’t let on. They still had a few more cities to hit and then the tour would be over. Stephen thought about the end of the tour way more than he should have, but Tony didn’t have any news to share. They texted on and off and by the time Stephen’s internship was over, he hadn’t heard from Tony in an entire week. 

So it was a complete surprise when he looked at his calendar and saw that his orientation had been pushed back a week due to overcrowding. He had four whole days to himself and a little extra pocket money. Christine, still working at _Bella’s_ , was only four hours away (eight by bus), so he bought a ticket to go see her. 

She was thrilled. Pepper was working her to the bone but they could hang out when she was done work. Stephen didn’t mind -- it was nice to stretch his legs and explore the town like a tourist would. He didn’t even have a bed to sleep on -- Wanda had taken over his room for the summer just to escape her parents. He was happy just to crash on the couch and get away from the busy city. 

On the third and final night of his stay, Christine took him to a brand new wine bar in the Commons. It was cute, a little kitschy, but they had a fine selection of local wines and he felt a little out of place while they sat in the poofy lounge chairs. He chose a seat opposite the floor length windows. One of his favorite pastimes was people watching and the Commons was an excellent place to do that. The population was pretty colorful for a small town in central New York, and people walked much slower than they did in New York City. 

Christine was chatting about something and Stephen had almost tuned her out. The red wine was working its way into his bloodstream and he felt completely at ease. He was happy, safe, and comfortable. He could have melted into his chair until he saw something that sent a shiver down his spine. 

He watched someone walk past the windows and the gait was so familiar, the hunch of the shoulders, the hands in their pockets. He craned his neck to get a better look and they made eye contact for a mere second. Christine observed his peculiar behavior and turned in her chair to see the stranger just leave the view of the window.   
“Was that --” She started, but the mystery man had turned on his heel and marched back towards the entrance of the wine bar. 

Stephen’s mouth went completely dry as the man opened the door. He couldn’t fucking believe it. It had been almost three months since he last saw him and he was finally staring at him in the flesh. That dastardly smirk had haunted Stephen’s dreams and now the man was walking towards him and Christine. 

Tony fucking Stark plopped himself down in a chair and took a sip of Stephen’s wine. 

“What’s up?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment:)


	36. When They Fight, They Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their meeting goes horribly wrong. When all is said and done, does Stephen try to fix things? Or does he just... let Tony go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _And when they come home at night, they say  
>  "I love you, baby"  
> And when it all comes crashing down  
> What can you do  
> To find what you're looking for?  
> And then the words will come to you  
> But there'll be no one there to say them to anyway  
> _  
> \- The Generationals
> 
> A/N: I legit cried writing this so... sorry in advance.

“I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. I love --” Stephen began to say through tear-filled eyes, his lip trembling uncontrollably.

“Don’t. Don’t  _ even _ ,” Tony dismissed him with a wave of his hand. He gripped the steering wheel and looked straight ahead. He took a deep breath and suddenly his voice was low, dripping with contempt. “I told you this was a bad idea. I told you  _ right from the start _ . I told you exactly who I was, who I am, and I guess a tiny part of me thought you would have listened. Clearly, I was wrong.” 

“But --”

“Just get out.” He reached across to the passenger side and opened the door. “Get out of my car.”

Stephen couldn’t see. He shouldn’t have said anything at all. Things had gone horribly wrong and he wished he could take back every word he’d said. He’d barely stepped onto the sidewalk when Tony peeled off, the passenger door flapping in the wind as he drove towards the Commons. Oh, god. What had Stephen done? 

* * *

_ Earlier _ ...

“What are you doing here?” Stephen couldn’t rip the smile off his face. Whatever insecurities he had about their relationship flew out the front door when Tony walked in. Tony was  _ here _ . He was living and breathing and his knee was touching Stephen’s. It felt like fate and the only reason he didn’t jump Tony’s bones was to spare Christine. “I thought you were in California.”

“Had to fly back here to get my car,” He explained. He finished the rest of Stephen’s wine and flagged down the server to get another. “Carol’s been keeping it for me, but she and Maria are moving to Syracuse, so…” 

“It’s so good to see you!” Christine hopped up and gave Tony a big hug, almost knocking him out of his chair. When she took her seat again, she asked, “How’s your summer been?” 

Stephen sat back and listened to Christine and Tony converse. It felt totally surreal. When Tony walked in it was like Stephen had seen a ghost, like he’d just witnessed Tony being resurrected from the dead. It didn’t seem possible, didn’t seem feasible. What were the chances? 

Christine caught them both up on all of the  _ Bella’s _ gossip. Shortly after Tony and his crew left, Pepper and Scott got into a huge fight and he quit on the spot. It wasn’t a complete surprise, whatever gig he had going on during trivia nights seemed to have become quite lucrative. Christine saw him driving down the road in a restored Trans Am a few weeks later, so he must have been doing okay. Wanda got into a huge fight with her parents about an older guy she was seeing, hence her moving in with Christine. Stephen almost choked on his wine when Christine said he was literally twice her age. Tony laughed. 

“That’s not funny, Tony. That’s like… a little bit rapey,” Stephen said sternly. It was kind of gross to think about. That man was a legal adult when Wanda was  _ born _ . 

“She’s an adult, she can do what she wants,” Tony wiped the tears out of his eyes. “Oh my god. How’s the sex with them? Do you hear it?”

“Is that all you think about?” Christine made a face but that didn’t stop her from giving them more details. Stephen groaned into his hand while Tony leaned in, listening intently. Christine finished her story and took a sip of her drink. “She seems happy. And I bought ear plugs, so thanks for that tip.” 

Stephen didn’t need to berate her for wearing ear plugs to bed. He made the landlord install fire alarms with strobe lights shortly after they moved in. Beyond that, he really didn’t want to hear about Wanda having sex with an ancient man who was almost  _ forty _ . He quickly derailed the conversation and soon, Christine was spending more time on her phone than talking with him and Tony. 

“I gotta go. I’m meeting… um,” Christine stood and gathered her belongings. She’d never found a good way to articulate that she was sleeping with someone she didn’t care if anyone met, because she essentially only used them for their dick. She kissed Tony on the cheek and patted Stephen awkwardly on the back. “Well anyway, I’ll see you back at the apartment.” 

They both watched her leave, her auburn ponytail bouncing as she walked. Stephen loved her to death but he was so grateful for her timely exit. As he and Tony talked she probably felt her presence was less and less desirable, if not completely unwanted. There was so much Stephen needed to stay and Tony was very careful not to say anything remotely serious while Christine was there. Stephen knew they needed to talk, but it could wait just a little bit longer.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Stephen grinned, happy that all of his attention could finally be on Tony. He was brimming with energy, or maybe he’d just had a lot of wine. Either way he was excited and it took a lot of restraint not to leap into Tony’s lap and suck the life out of his precious lips. 

“I’m here,” He shrugged. Leave it to Tony to be so unapologetic. His glass of wine was empty and honestly he looked so out of place in his ripped up jeans and plain white t-shirt. Even Stephen felt underdressed, but he at least wore a button up shirt. Tony glanced around the bar and sighed. “Whaddya say we go to Flanny’s? For old time’s sake. This place is a little out of my price range.” 

  
  


They walked down the Commons together. Stephen wanted to hold hands but Tony had one hand plunged in his pants pocket, the other holding a cigarette. They laughed, telling each other stories, remembering old ones, and when they arrived at the bright red doors of  _ O’Flanagan’s _ , Tony flicked his cigarette into the street and tugged at Stephen’s arm. 

“Hey. C’mere.”

He pulled Stephen’s lips to his and Stephen’s knees buckled as they kissed. It was everything he had been dreaming about, Tony’s tongue sliding along his, pushing, exploring, hungry. He couldn’t help but moan into Tony’s mouth and when they pulled apart, his eyes fell to Tony’s perfect lips, still wet with their saliva. 

“Wow,” Stephen smiled, completely in awe. 

“Let’s go say hi to Maria, hmm?” Tony gently smacked Stephen’s ass and held open the door for him. 

Maria cheered when they walked in, offering drinks on the house for her favorite customers. It felt completely bizarre to be back at Flanny’s, chatting with Maria and Tony like the summer had never even happened. Stephen couldn’t keep his hands off him, he was desperate for more contact and Tony obliged. They stayed until the bar closed, Tony suddenly unafraid to lock lips whenever Stephen wanted. They held hands as they walked to Tony’s car a few blocks away, and once they hopped in they realized they faced a conundrum. 

The Tower was no longer an option as the boys didn’t lease it anymore. They couldn’t go back to Stephen’s old apartment because Christine could be there, or worse, Wanda and her old man. But their need was growing and Stephen couldn’t leave without Tony fucking him, it just wouldn’t be right. They entertained booking a hotel room but they were both broke as fuck and it was getting to be so late. 

“Fuck it,” Tony lifted his hips and unbuttoned his pants. There was no time like the present. “Take your pants off.” 

“What? Really?” Stephen was surprised, but maybe he should have known by now that Tony had voyeuristic tendencies. He complied, glancing around the empty street. “What if someone walks by?”

“If someone walks by, they deserve it at this point,” Tony said frankly, removing his shirt. He climbed into the backseat, shucking off his shoes. “It’s after 1 AM and we’re in a family neighborhood. Anybody out and about right now is looking for a show. Take your pants off.”

Their kisses were urgent. Tony ground into him, pushing Stephen’s back into the seat, revelling in the softness of his skin. Stephen writhed beneath him, desperate for his touch, and when he felt Tony’s lubed fingers circling his hole he let out a sigh of relief. 

“Did you miss me?” Tony whispered into his ear, letting his tongue drag down Stephen’s throat.

“ _ God, yes _ ,” Stephen moaned as Tony’s fingers stretched him open, his movements precise and practiced. He knew exactly where to press, exactly what made Stephen squirm. He lived to fuck Stephen with his fingers. 

“So pretty,” Tony bit his lip as he looked down to see where his fingers disappeared. He pulled out slowly, ignoring Stephen’s pleas, and gazed at Stephen’s gaping hole. Stephen was practically begging to be fucked, clenching even as Tony pulled his fingers away. “Fuck  _ me _ , you’re perfect.” 

Stephen turned over, getting onto his knees. It was cramped, they didn’t have a lot of space to work with, but he had just enough room. He wiggled his ass at Tony, backing up slightly to feel Tony’s smooth cock sliding between his cheeks. He was so ready -- his own cock full and weeping. He needed to be filled and when he felt Tony press into him, they both moaned, their voices a cacophony of their mutual pleasure. 

It had been awhile. He could hear Tony panting as he pushed in, his cock pulsing, threatening to spill too soon. Stephen tried to relax, tried to let Tony move as slowly as he needed to, but as he got stretched he slowly lost all conscious thought. Was Tony thicker than he remembered? Christ. 

His head nearly hit the door panel with every gentle thrust of Tony’s hips, each move deep and purposeful. He felt the thick vein of Tony’s cock drag against his tight muscle every time he pulled out, a low moan building in his throat. Tony was gripping his hips so hard Stephen was sure he’d be bruised for weeks. He lost himself in the moment, Tony’s hardness fulfilling all of his needs, taking him apart and putting him back together again. Each thrust soothed that dull ache Stephen felt in the pit of his stomach, poking at the dam that threatened to burst with each stroke. 

“So tight, fuck.” Tony spanked Stephen’s ass and squeezed his cheeks together, pulling his cock out slowly to admire his handiwork. He looked at where their bodies joined, pushing himself back in slowly. “God, I love you.” 

“I love you to-- _ OH _ ,” Stephen had started to say, but Tony’s thrusts became shallow and quick, repeatedly pushing against Stephen’s prostate. All he could do was say ‘ _ oh _ ’ over and over again, unable to control himself as Tony rocked his entire body with the force of his movements. He was getting there, each pump getting him closer and closer and when Tony dipped his hips, his cock massaged Stephen’s insides in all of the right places.

“Cum for me Stephen, cum on my fucking cock!” Tony demanded, snapping his hips. Stephen looked back at the man pounding into him, naked as the day he was born except for a silver chain around his neck, the ring Stephen had made bouncing against his sweaty chest. A moan fell from Stephen’s lips and he spilled untouched onto Tony’s car seat. He felt Tony still as he clenched around his length. Tony pushed through, repeating “ _ oh fuck _ ” like a goddamn mantra, and within seconds he’d reached his climax. Stephen shivered as he felt ropes of Tony’s cum coating his insides, his cock throbbing as he released. 

Tony caught his breath and rubbed the smooth expanse of Stephen’s ass. He kneaded and massaged the flesh, and when he pulled out slowly, Stephen clenched again, causing Tony’s spunk to gush out of his hole. 

“Fuck, that’s hot.”

With a growl, Tony took his cock and pushed back in. Stephen couldn’t believe he was still hard but that was enough to get him going again. He grabbed his own cock then, timing his strokes to the new rhythm Tony had set. It was primal, frantic, Tony’s movements frenzied and uncontrolled. It didn’t take long for Tony’s breaths to come out high pitched, as if he was afraid of what was to come. 

“Oh god,  _ Tony _ ,” Stephen felt his eyes roll back as he was hit with another orgasm, stronger than the first. His body seized and he lurched forward, pulling Tony with him. He heard Tony grunt, their bodies slapping together, and Tony yanked Stephen’s hips back to get him exactly where he wanted. He pumped his hips at hyperspeed, the hottest sighs coming out of his mouth and with one last moan, a grimace, he emptied himself into Stephen’s tired body. 

  
  
  
  


“We’re moving to Los Angeles,” Tony said out of the blue. They’d put their clothing back on after they cuddled for a bit. The backseat was incredibly uncomfortable and Stephen wanted to drag out their interaction as long as possible. But the conversation had stilled and Tony was sitting in the driver’s seat smoking another cigarette. Stephen didn’t think he’d heard him correctly. 

“You’re what?”

“We found a sponsor, and they bought us a house in LA,” He didn’t look at Stephen as he exhaled, gently tapping his ash out the open window. A strangled noise came from Stephen’s mouth and reality quickly set in. 

“So you’re not… you’re not --” 

“No,” Tony said softly, glancing across to the passenger seat. When Stephen’s shoulders began to shudder, Tony reached out but his hand was slapped away. “Stephen, I’m sorry --”

“Why LA?” Stephen asked, trying to hold onto the last bit of integrity that he had before he crumbled. “What about New York? I thought you said you were going to try to move back to New York.”

“Well I  _ tried _ , but the sponsor is in LA and he wants us to be in LA.”

“Did you ask?” Stephen said hotly. 

“What do you want me to say? Of course I asked,” Tony snapped, but Stephen gave him one discerning look and his face fell. “Okay, no I didn’t, but it’s a free house. Who am I to say where it is?”

“You’re the fucking lead singer. I would expect a little more effort on your part,” Stephen crossed his arms, anger creeping over his skin.

“To do what?”

“To keep us together!” Stephen cried, his face felt like it was on fire and his throat seemed to clog as his eyes filled with tears. “I thought you said you wanted to be together.”

“I do! When we are! Or when we can be. Like this. Us being in town at the same time was totally serendipitous. I want to be together like this.” 

“I don’t. This is terrible,” Stephen wanted to crawl in a hole and die. He swallowed, trying to push down the feelings that were daring to come out and he nearly choked as the next words came out of his mouth. “I can’t do this anymore. It’s exhausting. I never know if you’re going to call or not, if you’re around or not. I don’t know what’s going on in that thick skull of yours and I’m so… Tony, I’m so tired.”

Tony slumped in his seat. His voice came out so quiet. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t know,” Stephen didn’t know. He was caught completely off guard and was just saying the first thing that popped into his head. “Maybe we should just call this whole thing off.”

“Is that what you really want?” Tony tilted his head, regarding Stephen with an expression that could only be described as stone cold. 

“I think so.”

“Alright. Fine,” Tony hastily put on his seatbelt and turned his keys in the ignition. 

“Tony…”

“No, you gotta do what’s best for you,” Tony cleared his throat, his voice suddenly clear and unwavering. If he was having second thoughts he didn’t show it, merely pushing the conversation forward. “I admire that about you, I really do.” 

“I’m sorry!” 

“You have nothing to be sorry about. You’re gonna be great. You’re gonna make a kickass doctor and I’m gonna be a super famous rockstar. It never would have worked,” Tony was smiling, or maybe he was just baring his teeth -- his mood quickly nosedived and he punched the steering wheel, his breaths coming out short and quick. He turned to Stephen, fire behind his eyes, “You talk a lot of game, y’know? You’re the one yapping about marriage and being together and shit and then you go ahead and pull this bull crap. Fuck this shit.” 

* * *

And that’s when Stephen tried to tell Tony he loved him. He wouldn’t listen. The high of seeing Tony  _ in the flesh  _ quickly crashed and Stephen felt the world was spinning around him. When Tony drove off it took all of his strength not to collapse on the sidewalk. He was a wreck. Why did he  _ say that _ ? He wished he’d never said anything at all. 

He stumbled back towards Christine’s apartment feeling hollow and empty. The tears were streaming down his face and the sharp pains in his chest were his only reminder to breathe. He stopped short, collapsing against the familiar stone walls of the church, one block away from their old apartment. It was hard to believe that a few months ago he and Tony were here, making out like rabid animals, and Tony had the fucking audacity to give Stephen head.  _ In front of a church _ . It was laughable. Maybe that contributed to Stephen’s hysterics because his silent sobs were quickly turning into hyperventilation and he couldn’t fucking stop it. He rolled onto his side, his tears pouring into the perfectly trimmed grass and god, wasn’t he a sorry sight?

It wasn’t until a cop pulled over and asked if he was alright that Stephen pushed himself off the ground. Embarrassed by his display, he shuffled towards Christine’s apartment with his head down, thankful that he hadn’t been arrested for public intoxication. 

He didn’t want Christine to know because he didn’t want Christine to ask. She was stressed enough having to move to D.C., she didn’t need Stephen’s perpetual relationship drama. He put on his best happy face and when she dropped him off at the bus station the next morning, Stephen felt she was none the wiser. 

  
  


That isn’t to say there were zero ramifications. Stephen went all out. He needed to purge — he deleted Tony’s number. He unfollowed  _ Stark Naked _ and all of its band members. Whatever fondness he held for Bucky, Clint, Sam and Rhodey was only carried on by his love for Tony. 

Or his former love. Was it too soon to call it that? It’s not like he could snap his fingers and suddenly fall out of love with him. It felt rather like running repeatedly into a brick wall, hoping that one day the pain might stop. He wanted to get rid of all reminders of Tony but even as he cleared his thoughts he still felt the urge to write.

So he finished writing their story. He wrote down details of their love affair month to month. He needed to decompress, he needed to unpack every single feeling, thought, and motivation that he ever had. He needed proof that he wasn’t fucking insane and he wanted verification that it had all happened. There was no rhyme or reason, the world was total chaos and his relationship with Tony - if he could call it a fucking relationship - was a perfect maelstrom. 

He wrote. He drank vodka straight and he wrote. Tom was concerned that his roommate had come back from his trip so quiet and reserved. Stephen avoided him for a few days because he was just so  _ pissed _ and he didn’t need Tom’s upbeat personality getting in his way. He stayed up late, typing and drinking, and when he finished he wasn’t sure what he would do. 

It was more or less a collection of his memories from the past year, maybe a bit scattered. But his drunk-self was just super confident that Tony should know how he felt at every twist and turn. He wanted Tony to know how disappointed he was every time Tony let him down, how elated he felt every time they finally did things right. He wanted Tony to know how deeply he felt for him and how wounded he was when things had ended so poorly. Stephen honestly didn’t know what he’d been blabbing about in the car but as soon as the words left his mouth he felt a giant weight lift off his chest. 

That weight was the uncertainty. That weight was Stephen forgiving himself for letting Tony go. He loved Tony with all of his heart but it was wearing him down and if Stephen was being truthful, the kindest thing he could do for himself was to let Tony go. Tony was a mess. Stephen was a mess. Together they made one giant hot mess and no matter how ‘serendipitous’ everything felt, Stephen felt he was actively battling against his best interest and it hurt. It hurt so much that he had to push away pervasive thoughts of self harm. (He never would, but he imagined it, briefly). He couldn’t go to medical school with this demon looming overhead. He had to let him go.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. Tony had actively pushed him away at every single step. He would initiate and then retract. The defense mechanism must have come to Tony naturally because he always played it out like it was somehow  _ Stephen’s _ fault, like Stephen was the one sabotaging their relationship. As Stephen sat there and skimmed over the words he’d written, he realized that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Tony was the instigator and yet he’d dangle his feelings in the air for Stephen to try and catch. It was completely unfair. 

When the bottle was finished, he clicked ‘ _ send _ ’ and only drunk Stephen would know why he deleted it from his outgoing mailbox. He fell back in his bed, exhausted and depressed. A smart man would have gotten up to get a glass of water to drink but Stephen deserved this. He deserved to have a terrible hangover in the morning. He deserved to be in pain, and to feel awful, and nothing short of a fire could get him out of his bed until the day after next. 

  
  
  


Life moved on. School started and suddenly Stephen was inundated with an insane amount of work that left him with little time to sleep, let alone drink. He woke one morning with a renewed sense of purpose and when he looked at the calendar, he realized he’d met Tony exactly one year ago. He tried not to think too much about it, but when he checked his email later in the evening, he saw that he had a message from Tony. 

He shouldn’t have opened at it. He thought about it for hours, in between study sessions with his friends. When he was finally home, he sat at his desk and prepared himself. The email was in response to the story he had completely forgotten he’d sent, and he cowered to think about what Tony could possibly say about that. He’d been so angry when he wrote the ending and he was still pretty pissed, but he was so tired from school he didn’t have the energy to be upset about it all of the time. His feelings flared when he read what Tony had written: 

> _ Hey,  _
> 
> _ I read what you wrote.  _
> 
> _ Please watch my latest midnight session; I dedicated it to you. _
> 
> _I’m sorry._ _  
> _ _  
> __TS_

Pah. For a man who wrote lyrics for a living, Tony’s communications were always sparse. How difficult was it to write what he wanted to say? Why did he have to make Stephen watch him? The egotistical bastard. As if it wasn’t painful enough to hear from him, he had to post a fucking link. Stephen pulled the bottle of vodka out of his bottom desk drawer and took a swig, not bothering to find anything to drink out of because he would need all the liquid courage he could get. 

Tony started the video as he always did, addressing his viewers with some sob story and Stephen tuned it out. He was getting angry just sitting there and he just wanted the music to fucking start. Tony sat in front of his keyboard, looking a little worse for wear, a cigarette burning in an ashtray nearby. Stephen sat back in his chair and the piano music was weirdly pleasant, a little mournful. Tony’s voice cracked as he began to sing. Stephen didn’t doubt he’d been chain smoking up until he began to record. 

_ You say that you love me _

_ Don't say that you love me _

_ 'Cause I don't know how to be yours _

Stephen actually laughed. Maybe he cried, he couldn’t tell because his emotions were bubbling over and hoped Tom wasn’t listening in because he probably sounded like a fucking maniac. What was Tony even saying? Was he trying to justify his behaviors just by saying  _ he didn’t know _ ? How could he not know? Stephen told him over and over. He loved him. He thought Tony loved him back. 

_ I still act like an orphan I guess _

_ And my hard heart breaks to confess _

_ That even while you hold me _

_ As I cry on the floor _

_ I still don't know how to be yours _

He slammed his laptop shut mid-song. He couldn’t stand to watch Tony anymore, no matter how vulnerable he looked or how sad he looked. He had some fucking gall to post that video after all he’d said in the car. 

> _ I told you this was a bad idea. I told you right from the start. I told you exactly who I was, who I am, and I guess a tiny part of me thought you would have listened. Clearly, I was wrong. _

The words stung as Stephen recounted them in his brain. When he was somewhat composed, he opened his laptop and deleted the email. He didn’t need that reminder in his inbox. Instead, he made a vow to himself. 

Here and now, he, Stephen Strange, would forget everything about the past year. In that moment he made a promise to forget everything about the most infuriating man he had ever met -- Tony Stark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Song:**  
>  How to Be Yours by Chris Renzema
> 
> You're probably wondering how the fuck this all tidies up, so I'll say this: 
> 
> Only time will tell.   
> (And it will be posted soon because I'm not that evil, and kind of on a roll)
> 
> Leave a comment! :)


	37. Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fifteen years later... 
> 
> I know, I know... it was supposed to be the last chapter but I got a little carried away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _I guess I'll have to fall in love with strangers  
>  Ride through New York City like I'm famous  
> And I did not want our love to be erased  
> But, Lord knows we chased it, love just rearranged us  
> _  
> \- Mt. Joy

Almost fifteen years later, Stephen Strange found himself to be an entirely different person. In fact, he was  _ thriving _ . He was climbing the ranks in his surgical unit at an unprecedented pace and his coworkers began to see him as incredibly reliable, but equally arrogant. He’d learned very quickly that in order to survive at Metro-General Hospital, one had to be completely ruthless. 

He was the first to arrive on shift and the last person to leave. He snagged surgery after surgery, not afraid to resort to the usual butt-kissing of his superiors that was necessary to get ahead. He certainly hadn’t made any friends; his coworkers remained civil for fear of what might happen if they fell out of his grace. For Stephen, it was good to be king. 

His private life was a secret. Not that he had anything particularly juicy to share, but according to his coworkers, he was born and raised somewhere in the midwest and his entire family was dead. It was only partially true -- yes, his father suffered a coronary attack and passed suddenly -- but he had stopped talking to his mother and brother entirely. Donna lived somewhere in Colorado with her husband and their dog but their relationship remained cordial at best. She didn’t approve of his lifestyle and their conversations became stilted as time wore on. 

She didn’t care that Stephen was gay. No, she cared that Stephen was, in her own words, a “heartless prick”. Maybe he’d shared too much about his dating habits, or he’d laughed a little too loudly when he told her a story about toying with someone’s feelings for the sake of his own entertainment. But wasn’t that all that relationships were, a game to be played? 

He could hardly feel bad about it. He didn’t have time to coddle anyone’s psyche or to correct their misconceptions about how relationships should or shouldn’t be. He was busy. He had life-saving research to do, miraculous surgeries to perform. He couldn’t be bogged down by someone else’s idiosyncrasies, or at least that’s what he told himself when he went to sleep at night. 

It was a little bit of a surprise when Christine called and asked him if he’d like to meet for drinks. Their careers had kept them in different parts of the country, the last time they’d talked she was in St. Louis finishing her fellowship. They’d barely kept in touch over the years, being busy with their residencies -- but she still remained the only person he would dare categorize as a ‘friend’. It only took one evening to rekindle the flame of friendship, laughing over several drinks, remembering simpler times. 

“Oh god, I’d forgotten about Scott Lang,” Christine dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. They’d laughed so hard recalling fleeting memories from all of those years ago, one involving Scott and an unfortunate mishap with a freshly-fried tortilla.  _ Bella _ ’s seemed so far away and Stephen had to dive into the deep recesses of his mind to remember anything, his brain clogged with surgical know-how and whatever else. Christine sipped her drink, a smile still lingering on her lips. “I wonder what happened to him. I wonder what happened to all of them.” 

She admitted that she’d lost touch with the crew shortly after her departure. Between moving, switching cell phones, and dropping social media altogether, she didn’t have the means to stay in contact anyway. It was a hard pill to swallow -- losing touch with close friends when new ones were hard to come by. 

The only person they didn’t have to wonder about was Tony. Almost a year after their first tour, his parents died in a car accident and suddenly the lead singer of  _ Stark Naked _ became the CEO of Stark Industries. Stephen was tempted to reach out just to offer his condolences, but how the hell would he get Tony’s contact information? Email the journalist from the article he’d read? He let it slide, watching Tony’s life from afar. Not that Stephen  _ actively _ paid attention to the headlines, but they were pretty hard to miss. Tony winning awards. Tony at a weapons exhibition. Tony having a bender in Vegas and narrowly avoiding arrest. He didn’t know how it came to be that Tony actually became the CEO and he had to remind himself that it was none of his business. He would have been thrilled to talk about anything else but Christine was stuck on it, still reminiscing about  _ Stark Naked _ . 

“They were doing pretty well, weren’t they? About to go on a tour in Europe or something,” she recalled, her petite face scrunching up as she tried to remember.

“I don’t know.” Of course he knew. Even if he’d unfollowed the band it was impossible to avoid seeing them online. They blew up shortly after their tour and became the hottest band going into the new year. Their songs played on the radio and showed up on random tv shows. Stephen had to actively listen to non-mainstream media just to avoid them. 

“God, they were so good live,” Christine sighed. “Some people just play music but they were really something to witness, ya know? It was like an experience.” 

Stephen offered a noncommittal response, “Mhmm.” 

“Do you remember that party in the woods? The one they played and Sam and Bucky found those costumes? And Tony -- what did he dress up as?”

_ A gorilla.  _ “I don’t remember.” 

“That was so fun. I would die if I ever drank that much again, though,” Christine said fondly, swirling the remnants of her drink. Stephen agreed with her on the first part -- it  _ was _ fun, probably the most fun he’d ever had in his life. But that time was over and he’d moved on. His version of fun was picking up a good surgery or an attractive man he’d never see again. Both were equally good prospects in his book. His mind wandered to his last day off when he fucked a guy he met in Chelsea, but Christine paused and he realized she’d asked him a question. “I said, do you ever talk to him?”

“Who?”

“ _ Tony _ ,” she said, her tone suspicious. Had Stephen suffered a severe brain trauma? How could he forget the man who turned his life upside down? He considered her comment slowly, taking a drawn out sip from his whiskey neat. 

“No,” he responded stiffly. Christine pursed her lips, perhaps sensing his reluctance to delve deeper into that topic. He’d never told her exactly what happened between the two of them that one fateful evening -- she knew they’d stopped talking, but Stephen let the memory of Tony fade into obscurity by never mentioning him again. 

“Found anyone special?” Christine asked after a few moments. He gave her a look and she smiled, anticipating his answer. 

“Have  _ you _ ?” He shot back, and her coy smile morphed into a toothy grin. 

“Why would I want to?”

And they laughed but that’s when he saw it -- the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, the subtle dip in her smile. He only recognized her sadness because he felt pangs of it, too. His sorrow wasn’t the same as Christine’s -- he wasn’t bound by his biology to find a lifelong partner before it was too late. She wanted a family. Stephen did not. But that didn’t mean he was invincible to the crippling loneliness that came with being a surgeon. If there wasn’t anyone to go home to, there wasn’t a real reason to leave the hospital. They’d known from day one that that would be their constant sacrifice. It was either save lives, or have one. 

It’s not like he hadn’t tried. Shortly after medical school, he decided to pursue a relationship with someone he’d seen on and off since he first arrived in the city. Tom had warned him against it, sure, but Stephen was young and frankly his relationship with Tony had left a chip on his shoulder. He called “Richard From The Bar” and Stephen was surprised to discover the man was actually charming. He was older, attractive, and doting. The age difference weirded Stephen out at first but the free meals and indulgent sex were something to consider. Being a starving young doctor, it was nice to come home to  _ someone _ . 

He didn’t notice it at first -- the sly remarks, the condescending manner in bed, the subtle restrictions to Stephen’s diet. It was all part of the lifestyle, right? He was so wrapped up in Richard’s life that he didn’t stop to think about how the other man’s behavior affected him. It wasn’t until Tom pointed out that Stephen was his  _ bitch _ that he even considered it. Looking back, he regretted how it caused an irreparable schism in his and Tom’s relationship. He cut him off (with full support from Richard), and when Tom moved away to Palo Alto, Stephen said good riddance. 

After a brief stay in the hospital with three cracked ribs and a fractured collarbone, Stephen finally left him. It hadn’t been easy -- all of his belongings were in Richard’s apartment and his coworkers were merely acquaintances. He stayed in the on call room for a month under the guise of being completely studious and when enough time had passed, he leased his first studio apartment nearby. 

As he and Christine closed settled their bill, she turned to him and finally said what she wanted to say. She wasn’t just visiting him in the city -- she’d been transferred to Metro-Gen. There was an opening in the trauma center and she accepted it. At first, he was thrilled -- Metro-Gen had quite the reputation across the country and that could only mean good things for Christine and her career. But then he realized he’d spent years carefully constructing a persona and someone who was intimately familiar with his past could ruin it in seconds. He expressed his concerns as they walked out into the pouring rain, and she took his hand, squeezing it firmly. 

“Your secrets are safe with me.” She kissed him on the cheek, the affection an alien concept in recent years -- and he watched as she stepped out onto the curb to hail a cab. The prospect of working with Christine filled him with equal amounts of excitement and dread. He knew she was brilliant (not as brilliant as him, obviously) and she had a lot to offer the hospital. But would she be able to keep her fat trap shut?

  
  


He was relieved to discover that yes, Christine had the capability to keep his personal life private. He wouldn’t have thought it possible fifteen years ago, certainly not thirty years ago when they first met -- and they maintained a pleasantly civil relationship at work. They couldn’t hide their chemistry and they couldn’t deny their friendship. Christine immediately became some sort of celebrity figure amongst their fellow surgeons simply because she’d managed to befriend the formidable Doctor Strange. 

It wasn’t a problem until applications for a new grant were released. All of a sudden the uneasy truce Stephen had formed with his coworkers was blown to shit -- he went back to his old ways, stealing promising surgeries and dominating the clinic consultations. He and Christine were working on a new laminectomy procedure and when it came time to publish, she barrelled into his office when she noticed her name had been removed. He tented his fingers as he listened to her shout obscenities at him. When she was finished, her breaths coming out ragged, her fists clutching the cursed publication -- he responded as calmly as he could. 

“It was the best option I had. Harmon suggested I do it to increase my visibility for the AAN grant --” 

“Harmon didn’t work with you! I did, and my name deserves to be on that paper!” She hollered. Stephen didn’t want to go against the wishes of his superior, and he hadn’t felt very guilty about removing her name. It sounded better, anyway.  _ Palmer-Strange Method _ was kind of a mouthful. 

“Christine, I’m not changing it. Sorry,” He shrugged, turning slightly in his chair to face his monitor. She let out a restrained scream and slammed the journal on his desk, her face inches from his. 

“You’re a fucking asshole,” She gritted out between clenched teeth. She marched towards the door and when she’d just stepped into the hallway, she reconsidered and stalked back into his office, waving her pointer finger at him. “I hope you like seeing your name alone, because that’s exactly what you’re going to be! Miserable piece of shit.” 

Without another word, she stomped out of his office. It felt… a bit not good. 

  
  


Her revenge was swift. Not two weeks later, Stephen walked past a newsstand to see his professional headshot on the front page of the New York Post. The headline read,  _ New York’s 25 Hottest Bachelors _ and it seemed to highlight him as number one. He sent an intern out to go buy a copy and he was horrified (but maybe not surprised) to discover the article contained serious misinformation. It painted him as a lonely workaholic who wanted nothing more than to settle down with a  _ wife _ and start a family. 

Christine avoided him like the plague, not that he had a minute to chew her out -- his schedule was suddenly flooded with an alarming amount of young women presenting with an array of neurological oddities. Even his coworkers began to treat him differently, a knowing smile on their face whenever a patient demanded to be seen  _ only by him _ . His research came to a halt due to the influx of what he would consider irrelevant cases and by the time the grant was awarded, he sulked as it went to his less-than-stellar coworker, Nicodemus West. 

“We’re even,” He said, tossing a journal on the circulation desk. Christine smiled and picked up the paper -- her eyes lit up as she read the title page.

“ _ The Palmer-Strange Method: A Revision _ ?” Her happiness was palpable. “Thought you’d come around eventually.” 

“Well, after my ninetieth patient who happened to be single and female, I thought maybe I ought to concede,” He admitted, not missing the mischievous glint in her eye.

“Concede to what? I have no idea what you mean,” She said loftily, pushing her rolling chair away from the counter. For once, Stephen smiled. He was happy that that was over and things could finally go back to normal. 

  
  


_ Normalcy _ , however, was almost as elusive as the abstract idea of happiness, and Stephen had barely settled before life slapped him in the face once again. He tried not to let it impact his morning when he found out -- he had a complicated surgery scheduled with Christine and he couldn’t afford to be distracted. She regarded him carefully as they scrubbed in, Mariah Carey already blasting in the operating room, and she didn’t say anything about it until their patient was open on the operating table. 

“Did you see the news?” She asked, her eyes not moving from where she was gently applying suction. 

“I see the news every day Dr. Palmer,” He said dryly, and he heard the anesthesiologist let out a snort.

“I meant about Tony.” 

“Oh.Yes.”

“Are you okay?” Christine pressed, her voice barely a whisper. 

“More suction, please.” Stephen cleared his throat and stepped away from the operating table to take a moment to still his hand. He was enjoying a perfectly good bowl of oatmeal when he heard Tony’s name fall from the newscaster’s lips -- he was kidnapped during a weapon’s display in Afghanistan. His convoy was bombarded by local insurgents, the entire crew left for dead. There was no sign of the billionaire. 

He ignored his feelings at first. It was sad for anyone to be kidnapped, it was tragic it was such a public figure. His feelings of bereftness had nothing to do with him personally knowing the man. No, he was just moody because the news from overseas got worse and worse everyday. 

But a couple months had passed and he heard nothing new. Search efforts had turned up empty, no offer had been made on his behalf. The news began to surmise that Tony Stark was dead, and Stark Industries began to make negotiations with its successor, Justin Hammer. 

He felt a surge of hate just hearing the name. Tony would roll in his grave if he ever heard that. And that’s when it hit him -- Tony’s  _ grave _ . Oh, god. He could be dead somewhere. Tony Stark could be dead. 

One day off became two. Two days off became a week. Before Stephen knew it, he had taken an unintentional sabbatical, finally using up years of unused vacation time. It didn’t matter that he was in the middle of career-changing research or that he had a long list of patients to see. Tony Stark was dead and there was nothing Stephen could do about it. 

His bathtub became his best friend -- he’d crawl into the porcelain tub while the water was scorching hot, a bottle of whiskey in his hand, a cigarette in the other. Yes, he didn’t miss the irony of a doctor smoking but this wasn’t about saving lives, it was about destroying one. He’d stay until the water grew cold, wrinkling his skin. Food became an afterthought and as soon as he woke in the morning, he’d open a new bottle. 

He had tried to forget Tony after all of these years. He flung himself at various men, hoping that one flimsy fuck could take the pain away. But no one ever really compared -- there was no match intellectually, no match on a personable level. No banter. No wit. Certainly, no one ever paid him the same amount of attention in the bedroom. He was so damaged by their relationship, never committing, always chasing the next best thing. Stephen finally realized that forgetting him was an insurmountable task.

A month could go by, maybe, when Tony wouldn’t enter his brain. But no matter what, he’d always sneak back in. He’d find himself remembering the little things -- the way Tony snored in the morning, the way he smirked at anything and everything, his inability to leave anything unsaid or to not respond with a snarky retort. He’d grin whenever someone had a problem saying a word with “fr” -- Tony always said the word “frustrated” in a strange way (“ _ fus- _ trated”), or “infuriated” (“in- _ fur _ -ee-ated”). He could be doing something as mundane as watching a bit of late night television and find himself thinking,  _ Tony would like that _ , or  _ Tony would do that _ and then he’d get angry. Why the fuck did it matter? It’d been over a decade and he was  _ still _ thinking about him? He needed to get a grip. 

So with the possibility of Tony being dead… he didn’t cope well. He always figured their paths wouldn’t cross again but to have the possibility ripped away entirely? It was unfathomable. It sent him into a state of such deep despair that he probably would have never left his bathtub if Christine didn’t break into his apartment one day. 

“Hey! Did you not pay your phone bill or something? I’ve been calling you,” Christine’s voice rang in the entry hall and he heard her steps falter as she walked further into his apartment. “Jesus Christ, Stephen…” 

He splashed his bathwater playfully as he heard her fumble around the kitchen. Nearly every single dish he owned was dirty and overflowing the sink. His laundry littered the apartment, trash strewn across the floor. Old takeout boxes lay forgotten on his coffee table and he wondered if, in his drunken haze, he’d accidentally eaten meat. 

She marched into his bathroom a few minutes later, commanding him to get out. He narrowed his eyes at her and took a swig from the bottle, daring her. She was beyond caring and stuck her arm in the tepid water, pulling the plug. She chucked a towel at him and left the room, ready to tackle the mountain of dishes in the sink. 

Later in the evening, she returned with an armful of groceries -- several bottles of Gatorade, and plenty of fresh produce. She waited while Stephen flicked through the television channels. She cooked dinner and they sat in silence. She just wanted Stephen to talk. 

He didn’t say anything until the next morning. She’d showered, ready to go to work, when she popped her head into his bedroom to say good-bye. He lay completely still with his back to her, and when she paused, she heard the slightest sound of a sniffle. Was he… crying? 

“Hey,” She sat beside him and rubbed his shoulder, trying to be consoling. “You’ll be okay.” 

_ Get a grip, Stephen _ . He heard her saying encouraging things, the tone of her voice soothing, not completely unlike how she’d address a small child. That was sobering enough and he turned onto his back, trying to muster a smile. 

“I’m fine,” He said shakily, hating the sympathetic look on her face. He was being ridiculous. “I just… what if he was the one, Christine?” 

His voice broke as he said her name. He’d been stubborn. He’d been careless. He was filled with regret and now he would never have the chance to fix things. He’d lost the opportunity to see what things could have been like. Maybe they could have worked things out. Maybe time had made them even more compatible, or maybe he was just filled with longing because it was no longer possible. Maybe Tony had been the love of his life and Stephen just let him slip away, and now he was dead. 

The grief fell over him in waves. Christine convinced him to go back to work, to do anything that distracted him. He had research to do and lives to save. He wasn’t sure if Christine had said something to his coworkers but they steered clear, approaching him with a certain timidness like he was a bomb about to go off. That was almost more annoying than their usual approach. 

So imagine his surprise when Christine sent him an email during his lunch break. He was at the gym, running like he normally did. She should have put a warning in the subject line, like  _ sit down while you read this or face potential injury _ , really anything would have been nice. But she didn't, and Stephen opened the email without thinking, only for his knees to buckle as he saw the headline.

STARK FOUND ALIVE

He fell off the treadmill with a loud  _ thud _ , grateful that no one else was around -- and he read the article as quickly as he could. Tony was alive and on his way back to his mansion in Malibu. Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes wasn’t available for comment (Rhodey was in the Air Force? Wow) but issued a statement saying that Tony was fine; he was just in desperate need of a cheeseburger. 

Any feelings of relief were immediately overtaken by feelings of embarrassment. He’d been so stupid, mourning someone who wasn’t even  _ dead _ . He’d risked his fucking career to think about someone he dated for less than a year and wasn’t that just foolish?  _ Get a grip _ . He sent her a ‘thumbs up’ as a response, an emoticon being the only form of expression he could bear to send back. He’d been so stupid. Tony was alive and he was hundreds of miles away. 

He watched Tony’s press conference when he’d landed back in the States. He looked exhausted, his arm was in a sling, but he still managed to sport an impeccably trimmed goatee. His decision to dismantle the weapons manufacturing sector of Stark Industries sent the reporters into a frenzy, and Stephen turned off the tv as Tony hobbled away from the podium. At least he was safe. 

It was less of a surprise when Tony shied away from the public view entirely. Stephen didn’t doubt he was dealing with severe post-traumatic stress disorder from his kidnapping. The months went by and Stark Industries stock steadily dropped. Stephen began to wonder if the billionaire would ever grace headlines again, the silence uncharacteristic and eerie. Tucking his feelings away, Stephen threw himself back into his work, and in almost no time he was asked to present his findings at a conference for the American Neurological Society. 

Christine usually accompanied him to these types of events. He thought himself a rather delightful speaker until he looked over at their table and saw Christine unapologetically snoozing with her head on the table. She politely declined his invitation the next time he asked and he tried not to take it too personally. 

His presentation went off without a hitch. He answered the questions in the panel following without any problems, and he even managed to schmooze a little with some potential investors. During his post-speech celebratory drink, he scanned the bar looking for someone to take home. He definitely deserved it after all of his hard work. 

A blonde haired man caught his eye. Something about the way he held himself was appealing -- his shoulders thrown back, his head held high as he walked across the room. Stephen didn’t know why but he loved to see that type of confidence in a man. He downed his drink and he was about to get up when he heard a familiar voice and felt a tap on his shoulder. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” The voice drawled, sounding a little bored. “I’ve been watching him for a while and it looks like Mr. Five-Foot-Nine plays for both teams. I would hate to see you get your heart broken.” 

His voice drifted off and Stephen could almost hear the unspoken word,  _ again _ . He didn’t have to look to know exactly who the voice belonged to. 

“Tony! What…” Stephen turned in his seat to get a good look at the man standing before him. Even after all of these years, Tony still managed to take his breath away. He tried to fix his face to hold back his surprise, but Tony noticed and smirked. Stephen finished his question, struggling to keep a straight face. “What are you doing here?”

“You kidding?” He pulled out the stool next to Stephen and sat down, waving the bartender down for two refills. “I funded your little pet project. You’re welcome, by the way.” 

“For my research?”

“For saving your evening,” Tony smiled and Stephen’s mind went completely blank. “I’ve got a private booth and no one to share it with. You busy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment :)


	38. Don't Get Me Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen and Tony air out years of dirty laundry, but Tony has a confession to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Innocent then  
>  Way back before we knew how to pretend  
> Picking up where we left  
> It ain't meant to be easy, shouldn't be hard as this  
> And I ain't responsible for letting this go  
> Don't get me wrong  
> I'd love to tell you whatever you want  
> But haven't you had enough of loneliness?  
> _  
> \- Lewis Capaldi
> 
> A/N: A comment on the previous chapter asked (basically) how this fit into canon: we can probably think of this as pre-car crash Stephen Strange, and while Tony does get kidnapped in Afghanistan, I've left it open as to what exactly happened to him there, and he doesn't come home with an arc reactor built into his chest.

His whiskey already refilled twice, Stephen zoned out while Tony spoke. He couldn’t believe he was having drinks with the man who plagued his dreams for the last fifteen years. The one who got away… or the one who ran away kicking and screaming. Time blurred things like that. Whatever the case may be, Stephen had been guarding his heart since the day they broke up and he didn’t need Tony waltzing in like he owned the place. He decided he would follow Tony’s lead but if the man gave any inkling about wanting to hook up, Stephen would run out of there as fast as he could. But Tony’s demeanor was strange -- he treated their conversation like he was merely chatting with a peer, not a long lost love. 

Maybe it was because Tony needed something. He wanted Stephen to give him input on some project he had going, something about a renewable energy source. Stephen listened with cool indifference, sipping his whiskey like it was water. He felt like he was twenty-two again, sitting in a booth across from Tony at O’Flanagan’s. It was totally bizarre. Tony acted like no time had elapsed whatsoever, like he’d just come back from his tour and was catching Stephen up on his life. He prattled on, skirting over Afghanistan and skipping ahead to his current quandaries. Stephen didn’t feel uncomfortable until Tony suggested they go up to his hotel room. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea…” Stephen said slowly. That’s exactly what he needed. A night with Tony to fuck up his life and stomp all over his heart. Tony raised his eyebrows, looking very much like a sad puppy begging for treats.

“Well I can’t very well show you my research down here,” He started to slide out of the booth and when he stood, he held out his hand for Stephen to take. “Will you just come up, please? Strictly professional.” 

Stephen didn’t take his hand. He opted to chug the rest of his drink, swallowing the ice in a pathetic attempt to delay the inevitable. He followed Tony to the elevator and that was when he became aware of a group of men trailing behind them. They were all over six feet tall, donning matching black suits and wearing earpieces. 

“Security detail,” Tony explained when he caught Stephen staring. “Can’t be too careful, y’know?”

He gave them a wave and they nodded, hanging back in the foyer as he and Stephen stepped into the elevator. He took a spot slightly behind Tony and as the doors closed, he felt intensely claustrophobic. The elevator was smaller than it had any right to be, and Tony stood facing the doors, his hands clasped in front of him, continuing to talk like he was in the middle of a business meeting. 

“Think about the implications!” He was saying, and those were words Stephen never thought would come out of Tony’s mouth, considering he lacked the foresight to pack any clothes for their trip to the waterfall that one time. “Renewable energy in the palm of your hand. The applications are endless.”

He felt stifled. His palms began to sweat, the air felt too thin, and maybe while Tony was talking he leant in only slightly and he _sniffed_ . He crept himself out just by doing that but he was insanely curious. Tony smelled as delectable as he looked, his cologne subtle, expensive. Beyond the perfumed scent there was just something so distinctly _Tony_ and Stephen couldn’t quite put his finger on it. 

Fifty floors went by quickly. He followed Tony out of the elevator, briefly wondering if his pants had always been so tight, and when they arrived at the double doors to the penthouse suite, he couldn’t help but let out a gasp. Over the years, Stephen had become somewhat accustomed to the nicer things. His own condominium looked out over the expanse of Central Park, and he paid top dollar to have a designer come and outfit his pad with stylish furnishings. Tony, however, was probably paying a medical intern’s entry salary for every night that he stayed. 

The windows reached from the floor to ceiling, offering a spectacular view of the southern half of the city. Stephen could see boats blinking in the harbor and Lady Liberty graced the horizon with a gentle light. Tony didn’t notice his guest had gone quiet. He traipsed into the living room area, a sprawling open space boasting modern furniture and its _pièce de résistance,_ a black grand piano.Tony tinkered by the bar area, fixing himself a drink, and when he offered one to Stephen, he refused. He didn’t need any help clouding his mind. 

Tony directed him to sit on one of the couches and as he did, Tony took a remote control out of his pocket and a holographic image popped up out of nowhere. It was impressive, but not as impressive as the schematics that started materializing on the screen. Tony was talking at a million miles an hour, the pictures flying on the screen, but Stephen couldn’t get over how good he looked in goddamn _suits_. Seriously. Tony probably had a pretty fantastic tailor but he also had a pretty fantastic body. He just looked so… meaty. When he took off his coat and unbuttoned his shirt, Stephen couldn’t stop staring at his muscular neck.

“Earth to Stephen,” Tony snapped his fingers, pausing his presentation. “Hello, did I lose you? Should I go back a few slides?”

“No, it’s fine -- go ahead,” Stephen blinked. Tony still looked hot when he was annoyed… like all of those times he was frustrated in the kitchen...  
“Really? What did I just say?” Tony put one hand on his hip. He really thought he could call Stephen’s bluff? Stephen’s mind was blank for a few seconds and he tried to recall what he’d read before he slipped into his daydream. 

“Um… you said the arc reactor operates using ionization of palladium,” He said, trying not to let his face betray him. Having to look at Tony was incredibly distracting, but Tony seemed satisfied with his response.

“Through an electric arc, very good,” Professor Tony continued his lecture and Stephen didn’t know what he was doing here if Tony had already figured everything out. Beyond that, why was Tony even in New York City? Even _if_ he had somehow funded Stephen’s research without his knowledge, what was the point of all of the secrecy? Wasn’t half of being a philanthropist bragging about it? The holographic screen disappeared and Tony shoved the remote in his pocket. “So? What do you think?”

“It’s good.” 

“Just _good_? When have I heard that before?” He tapped his chin for a second before he slowly walked over to where Stephen sat. “And anyways, I guess I don’t really need your feedback because I already know I’m a genius.” 

He’d had enough. Standing, he asked, “So why am I here, Stark?”

“Ooh, Stark? Feeling spicy, are we?” Tony taunted, the playfulness lost when Stephen rolled his eyes. 

“You know what I mean.” 

Tony arched his eyebrow. “What’s on your mind, _Strange_?” 

“Well geez I don’t know where to start!” If the presentation was just Tony filling his own echo chamber, what was the point of Stephen being there at all? Did Tony just want him alone? 

“The beginning, maybe?” He placed his drink on the coffee table and rolled up his shirt sleeves, revealing his incredibly toned forearms. _Get a grip, Stephen_. 

“Okay. What are you doing in New York?” Stephen demanded. Surely Tony could answer a direct question.

“I came to seduce NYC’s hottest bachelor,” Tony said dryly, and when he saw Stephen tense his shoulders he added, “Relax, I’m shopping for real estate. Next.”

“What happened that summer?” Stephen felt a little bit silly. Tony had pretended the entire evening that they didn’t have anything to talk about, but he opened the floor to questions and Stephen felt compelled to find answers from all those years ago. His emotions were getting the best of him, his blood pressure rising, the clamminess returning to his hands. “You just left me a fucking note, and then you didn’t call, you only texted _under duress_ \--”

“Okay first off,” Tony stepped forward, the volume of his voice matching Stephen’s. “I _told you_ I would be busy, you know how exhausting tours are!”

“ _You could have called!_ ” Stephen spat. He’d put in all of the effort that summer, at least towards the end. He’d called. He’d texted. Tony returned calls if it suited him, but for the most part, Stephen always initiated their communication. He could see that little vein in Tony’s forehead begin to pulse, his wrinkles becoming more prominent as his face contorted with hints of anger. 

“You’re one to talk, Mr. High-and-mighty-medical-school,” Tony shot back, “I don’t seem to remember you answering any of my phone calls after that night in the car, not _one_.”

“We broke up, I couldn’t stand it!” 

_And I blocked your phone number, and Richard bought me a new phone shortly after_ , Stephen thought, but Tony definitely didn’t need to know that and Stephen hoped he would never find out. They weren’t getting anywhere -- for every point Stephen made, Tony had a retort and he should have seen that coming. They were two hamsters running around a track, the cycle sickening, and Stephen was ready to step off the wheel. 

“Did you even see the email I sent you?” Tony asked. Their gaze met and Stephen saw the way his face softened, a flicker of pain flashing in his eyes. He had to remember that this was Tony -- Tony the manipulator, Tony who did anything to get what he wanted. Maybe this was part of his ploy and Stephen buckled down, maintaining his adamant stance.

“You mean that song where you denied any and all responsibility for how things ended?” He said, well aware his tone was mocking, and he didn’t miss the way Tony flinched as he responded, “Yes, I saw it.”

“Well did you listen to the whole thing?” Tony’s voice cracked and he sank into a nearby chair, running his hand through his hair. “Jesus Christ.” 

“No,” He admitted. This was rather unexpected. Stephen hadn’t thought about that song in years, it didn’t seem important. Granted, he was so pissed, Tony could have sent him a marriage proposal and he would have deleted it. Not that he wanted that, but…

“That explains a lot,” Tony said finally, and he reached for his drink and drained it in one gulp. 

Tony was staring at him, his head cocked to the side, regarding him with a peculiar expression. He looked a little sad, a little angry, and if he was feeling anything like Stephen, a little confused. 

“What is this? What are we even doing?” Stephen had to laugh. He paced in the space between the couches, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. None of this made any sense and they sounded ridiculous. They were a couple of adults standing around a suite decked out in Swarovski crystals, arguing about something that happened fifteen years ago. He kept his eyes closed and imagined all of the possible scenarios for how he could possibly get out of this conversation with his heart intact. He was too curious for his own good. Stephen’s life would have gone a lot smoother if he just _stopped asking fucking questions_ .. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts he didn’t notice when Tony stood. He jumped when he felt Tony’s hand on his arm, his touch warm and inviting, and Stephen _hated_ that. 

“I have a confession to make,” Tony’s voice was so low, so steady, and Stephen didn’t want to hear it. 

“Tony…” He pulled away but Tony stepped in closer. He trembled as he felt Tony’s breath on his ear, their cheeks almost touching as Tony said something that could halt the world on its axis. 

“I have _never_ stopped loving you,” His hand traveled down Stephen’s arm, and he took Stephen’s hand in his. Stephen stiffened, not wanting to breathe, not wanting to give any indication he was alive. Tony planted the softest kiss on his cheek, his lips ghosting over his skin. “I should have never let you leave without telling you how I felt. And I’m not asking you to reciprocate, I just wanted you to know.”

  
  


Stephen ran out of there. Well, not exactly -- he was cordial, he’d pulled back and Tony offered him a glass of water as he stumbled backwards onto the couch. He could have been hit by a train and felt less winded than he did in that moment and Tony didn’t take any offense. They sat quietly for a moment, not looking at each other, not acknowledging the elephant in the room. 

_After all of these years, Tony still loved him_. It was an impossible idea to digest and Stephen kept blinking, willing himself out of this probable daydream, but every time he opened his eyes, Tony was still there. He sat opposite him, his hands clasped over his knees, his head held down as he waited for Stephen to deliver the final blow. Stephen downed the glass of water and when he stood and walked towards the front door, Tony jogged over to catch him. 

“I need to think,” Stephen said, his eyes darting over to see Tony hold his hand out, only to quickly retract. 

“Sure,” Tony said casually, “That was a lot.”  
“Yeah,” He agreed. He wanted to sprint towards the door but Tony was mirroring his steps, maintaining his distance.

“Yup,” Tony popped the ‘p’, his hands swinging aimlessly while he rocked on the balls of his feet. They inched closer to the door, their gaits awkward as they felt the evening coming to a close. Tony rallied, making an exaggerated sniff and puffing out his chest as he moved to open the door. “Well, you know where I’ll be.” 

“Malibu?” 

“Here. I’m staying here for the time being,” Tony managed a constrained smile, his facade close to cracking the longer Stephen stayed in the room. He leaned his head against the door and offered to call Stephen a car.

“No, thank you,” Stephen averted his gaze. He didn’t want anything from Tony. He didn’t want one of his men to drive him home, he didn’t want research money from him, he didn’t want a delayed confession of love. He just wanted to escape.

“Seriously it only takes two seconds --”

“Good night, Tony.” 

Stephen’s feet dragged him home, his mind completely preoccupied as he walked the twenty blocks back to his condo. It was hard to think, hard to _breathe_ \-- did Tony really just say that? If someone had told him he was going to see Tony a few hours ago, he wouldn’t have believed it. If someone had told him Tony was going to say that he’d never stopped loving him in the first place -- well, Stephen would have punched that someone in the face. 

He hated that he felt the urge to kiss him, to fall into his arms, into his bed. He was better than this, or at least that’s what he told himself. He was Stephen Strange. He was cutthroat, he was ruthless, he was heartless. He didn’t fuck the same man twice and he certainly didn’t go crawling back to someone he loved when he was practically a teenager. Even if he did have feelings for Tony (and he wouldn’t admit that even under interrogation), that didn’t mean he had to act on them. That didn’t mean that they were valid. It meant he had some unresolved issues, but jumping back in bed with Tony wasn’t necessarily going to fix them.

He shoved his feelings down, something he was getting quite accustomed to doing, and avoided Christine’s gaze when she asked how his presentation went. It was completely ordinary, nothing extraordinary, nothing to report. _Stop asking_. She must have sensed his reluctance because she kept pressing and pressing, dying to hear about whatever revelation Stephen had had to make him so quiet. His only solution was to retreat to his office and pretend to work. He couldn’t focus to save his life. 

When an unknown number called him three times in a row, he began to get suspicious. Soon his phone blew up with an onslaught of texts. 

Answer your phone.

Answer your phone.

You know who it is.

Answer your goddamn phone. 

Stephen

Answer your phone!

Please

He picked up the next time it ringed, if not only to tell Tony off for bothering him during work hours. He was very busy reorganizing his desk and playing a rousing game of Tetris. 

“Hey Stranger,” Tony said as soon as Stephen picked up. “Or is it Dr. Stranger, now?” 

“How did you get my phone number?” He hoped Tony could sense his impatience, his voice laced with the tiniest hint of disdain.

“That’s not important. What _is_ important is that I didn’t mean to --”

“Didn’t mean to what?” Stephen cut him off. Why did Tony always have to say so many words without actually saying anything of substance? He just liked to hear himself talk and it drove Stephen up a wall. 

“Christ, will you let me finish a sentence? I’m trying to tell you that I --”

“Why now?” Stephen’s patience with the phone call had run out and he squeezed the stress ball on his desk. If he was going to waste time again the least Tony could do is answer his questions. It was his fault they were talking again anyway. 

“You know it’s really weird,” Tony said slowly, his voice having a weird upward inflection as he spoke, “But being held captive for three months gave me a lot of time to think. Reprioritize.” 

“You pushed me away,” Stephen reminded him. He felt a headache coming on and rubbed his forehead. 

“I was scared! To this _day_ I’ve never felt the same way about anybody --”

“Oh, please,” He scoffed, “ _You_ were scared? You broke my heart!” 

“You were the one who called things off!” Tony practically shouted into the speaker, and Stephen heard his breaths coming out short and quick. He must have gathered his wits because his voice came out low, the rhythm of his words slightly staccato. “I didn’t lie to you. I never slept with anyone that summer. I thought about it… but honestly, the most difficult thing was missing you. I should have told you.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Stephen had a full blown headache now. What was the fucking point? “ _Yes_ , you should have. But you didn’t, and I don’t see why --”

“Look, let’s not dwell on the past,” Tony said quickly. “I fucked up, you fucked up. We were young and stupid. We were going in different directions and we knew that from the start. But now we’re both here so I gotta ask.”

_Please don’t say it. Don’t you dare fucking say it._

“Do you think we could try things again?” Tony’s voice was hopeful. “Start with a dinner date and see how things go?”

What did he even expect Stephen to say? They hadn’t been together for more than a few hours and already they were at each other’s throats. What about their interaction the previous evening told Tony that this was a good idea? Clearly they had issues. They mixed together like oil and water. He didn’t know what Tony wanted him to say, so he diverted the question. 

“Do you regret any of it?” He asked a few moments later.

“No, never,” Tony responded immediately, and when Stephen didn’t say anything else, he asked his question again. “So? Will you have dinner with me or not?”

He’d never felt such relief as when five interns burst through his office door, one of them holding out a packet of scans he’d been waiting for. They clawed at each other, crawling over the chairs in his office to be the first one to hand it to him. He’d promised them an assist if they got the scans back from the radiologist, a person he’d had a spat with a few days prior. 

“I gotta go,” Stephen said, pulling his phone away from his ear as he addressed his interns. “ _Well_?”

“Stephen --” He heard Tony begin to say, but he hung up before he could hear anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment :)


	39. Make You Feel My Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note: If you're coming for the last chapter, make sure you read the previous one! They were posted at the same time :) 
> 
> All Tony wants is to take Stephen out to a damn dinner. Is that really too much to ask?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _I could make you happy, make your dreams come true  
>  Nothing that I wouldn't do  
> Go to the ends of the Earth for you  
> To make you feel my love  
> _  
> \- Adele  
> (Great covers by Ane Brun and Sleeping At Last!)

A couple of days later, he heard a knock at his door. It was late, no sane human being should have been awake, and he was busy poring over medical journals. Pulling his bathrobe tighter, he made another promise to himself. If Tony fucking Stark was on the other side of that door, he was going to let him have it. 

But there was no one there. He peeked down the hallway, no sign of movement or disturbance. When he looked down he saw a fucking fruit basket wrapped in red cellophane, a handwritten note attached to a metallic golden ribbon. He knelt down and detached the note. The chicken scratch handwriting looked familiar. On the note, only one word was written. 

Dinner?

He took the fruit basket but left the note on the floor. He hoped (and suspected) that Tony was keeping an eye on him and hopefully that would send a message. He couldn’t stand to be in a room with Tony, and the thought of having to spend an entire evening with him made his blood boil. He had some fucking audacity to even ask. Stephen didn’t owe him anything, he certainly didn’t owe him a dinner. Tony had said all he’d needed to and it was time for Stephen to shut the proverbial door on their relationship. 

  
  
  


It might have been easier if Christine stopped sending him links to news stories. He saw what he wanted to see, he was beginning to resent her a little but at least she included a subject heading this time. _Did you see this_? 

The old MetLife Building near Grand Central Station had finally been purchased. It’d been under contract for years, its old stone facade slowly crumbling into the city streets below. He’d watched the construction through his window, and he didn’t think much of it when scaffolding went up and the building seemed to be reinvented overnight. The new building was an architectural wonder, sleek and chock full of floor-to-ceiling windows, and it sort of looked like there was a landing platform near the top. 

So of course, leave it to the world’s most eccentric billionaire to purchase a building so garish. He rolled his eyes as the link opened on his tablet and he saw none other than Tony Stark talking to a reporter, the headline reading: _Stark Purchases NYC Property_. The reporter had caught him coming out of New York City Hall and he seemed pleased as punch to be interrupted, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his Armani suit. 

“ _What are you saying, Mr. Stark? Is Stark Industries coming to New York?_ ” The reporter held out her microphone and Tony smirked. 

“ _I could be saying that, yeah_ ,” His sunglasses were so dark he could have been looking anywhere. Stephen was glad to know he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t get a straight answer out of the man. 

“ _Why the sudden change in scenery? Sick of Malibu sunshine_?” The reporter continued, and Tony smiled again. 

“ _Let’s just say, uh. We wanted to be a little more central to our interests_ ,” He emphasized the last word and shifted his body towards the camera. Stephen felt for two seconds that Tony was looking at _him_ , and he closed the news story, even though the reporter was asking more questions. So Tony… Tony was moving to New York?

He watched as the scaffolding disappeared and the construction finished. Illuminated letters were soon affixed to the building’s facade, reading _STARK_ , and it seemed to serve as a constant reminder as Stephen could see it every time he left his apartment. He hadn’t heard from Tony since the fruit basket, but the night of the opening ceremonies (which he only knew of because Christine told him so), he received a text.

**TONY:**

You like my giant pole?

**STEPHEN:**

Eat a dick.

**TONY:**

I’d like to. 

After we have dinner?

Stephen didn’t entertain that with a response. 

  
  
  
  


Work, once again, became his only refuge. If he didn’t have any surgeries scheduled, he spent the rest of his time in the clinic doing consultations. His research was halted temporarily, and he wanted to keep himself as busy as possible. Stark couldn’t take him out to dinner if he was constantly at the hospital, and he was rather proud of himself for his fool-proof plan until he saw his superior, Dr. Harmon, walking down the hallway with a familiar man. 

Tony looked a little like a kid in a candy store, his face full of wonder as Harmon prattled on about useless shit, trying to impress the billionaire investor. Stephen had heard there were talks about a mysterious angel investor and it _really_ didn’t sink in until he saw Tony walking down the hallway, listening diligently to every word Harmon said. He tried to run, tried to hide, but Harmon called his name from the far end of the hallway and he had no choice but to greet his superior and nod politely when Tony held out his hand, a shit eating grin on his face. 

“Mr. Stark,” Stephen smiled, his eye twitching as he shook Tony’s hand.

“Dr. Strange,” Tony chirped. Oh, he was enjoying every single second of this. 

“You two know each other?” Harmon’s eyes lit up and Stephen could see the dollar signs pinging in his head. He pushed the conversation forward, pride beaming from his chest as he clutched his clipboard. He nodded at Tony, eager to show him off. “Mr. Stark here is making a _considerable_ donation to the research department and we are pleased to say we have made him an honorary board member.”

Harmon patted Tony on the shoulder and Tony waved him away as if to say, _no, really, you’re too kind_. Stephen wanted to vomit. This was an extreme case of showboating and he felt Tony was taking this a little too far. 

“What interest does Stark Industries have with Metro-Gen?” He asked, trying to keep his voice calm and his manner even.

“Well I’m abreast of all innovative technology, and I think it’s high time that we coordinated with top researchers in the medical field. For the benefit of the general public, y’know?’ Tony batted his eyelashes beneath his translucent blue sunglasses and Stephen grimaced when Tony addressed him directly. “Say Dr. Strange… aren’t you about to start clinical trials on your research?” 

“Yes, but I --” He stuttered, but Tony cut him off again. 

“I’d love to hear about it sometime. Maybe over dinner?” The corners of his mouth turned into an impossible smile, his smarminess oozing out of his pores. Harmon was glaring daggers at Stephen, daring him to say no to the biggest windfall the hospital had seen thus far. The senior doctor’s eyes narrowed, and Stephen understood his silent communication. If Stephen said no, he could just turn around and clear out his office because he would no longer be a top surgeon at Metro-Gen.

“Sounds... great,” He all but muttered, and Harmon’s face lit up with a smile.

“Great!” Tony clapped and rubbed his hands together. “I’ll have my people call your people.” 

Tony threw his arm around Harmon and dragged him down the hallway, chatting animatedly as they walked. Stephen didn’t have much time to dwell on what had just happened, as a resident required his attention and began talking his ear off as soon as Tony had left. He wouldn’t be able to mull it over until his shift was done six hours later, and he sat at home having a whiskey neat. He was going to have dinner with Tony Stark. 

  
  


Part of him didn’t want to fuss over what to wear. He was too old, he thought, to be worrying about what a date might think (he knew he was a total smokeshow, anyway), and it wasn’t a _date_ \-- it was just dinner with an old friend. Okay, it was dinner with an old friend who had recently declared his love for him and Stephen had shut him down at every turn, but still. 

When he told Tony he needed time to think, he meant it. He waffled between being angry and feeling giddy. He wanted to dismiss everything about it because it still hurt. Seeing Tony again had just reopened all of his old wounds, reminding him of the timid young man he used to be. God, he was so impressionable. 

A shot of whiskey gave him courage and when he climbed into the car Tony had sent, he was disappointed to find he was being taken to Tony’s hotel room first. The driver didn’t say anything as they crossed the park and he sat in the backseat contemplating his impending doom. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar, the fabric already feeling constricting around his throat. He wiped his hands on his pants, not a great look considering he’d just had it pressed, and he rolled down the window, hoping there was a cool breeze. 

He made his way up to Tony’s suite completely unescorted. He stood in front of the door, his hand hovering the ornate knocker when Tony pulled the door open. His face dropped as he read Stephen’s expression.

“You could smile a _little_ ,” He quipped, stepping aside to let Stephen in.   
  
“You basically blackmailed me into coming here.” 

“I did no such thing. If anything, it was… gentle coercion,” Tony said, “And anyway. Harmon didn’t seem to mind. Want something to drink?”

He wandered over to the bar and poured two glasses of scotch over ice. Handing one to Stephen, he clinked their glasses together while Stephen stood still as stone. Tony was as talkative as ever, offering news about himself when Stephen hadn’t asked. Stephen kept sipping at his empty glass and when Tony walked over to the grand piano, he audibly groaned. 

“Before we go to dinner I just want to play you a little something,” Tony smiled and scooted across the bench. He patted the seat, indicating for Stephen to join him. “Don’t _roll your eyes_ at me. C’mere, Strange, pop a squat.” 

Stephen complied, albeit reluctantly. The piano bench was fairly small and in order for both of them to fit, their clothed thighs touched. He felt a shock of electricity as he slid in next to Tony but he ignored it, focusing on the next five minutes being over. 

As Tony began to play, he recognized the tune immediately. He hadn’t thought about it in years but the melody was implanted somewhere deep in his mind. Tony’s voice had changed -- the tenor of youth now more baritone. Stephen likened his voice to a mix between Bruce Springsteen and Chris Cornell, gritty and sexy, smooth as the scotch they were drinking. He let the music wash over him, resigned to the fact he was stuck on that bench no matter what. 

_You say that you love me_

_Don't say that you love me_

_'Cause I don't know how to be yours_

Tony had dropped his voice an octave, seeing as he couldn’t really hit those high notes anymore. Stephen was immediately thrown back fifteen years, his pain so visceral it felt like it was creeping on his skin again. He really thought they were so in love. Their relationship seemed invincible, impenetrable, and all it took was some distance and time and that illusion was shattered. They could have been really good for each other. They could have been with each other through their tumultuous twenties. As much as Stephen liked to think he had his life in control now, he had to admit he continued to be a hot mess. 

He watched Tony play, loving the way his body slightly rocked with the rhythm, his eyes closed as he concentrated and sang. His anger was soon overtaken by an immense sadness thinking about all of the time that had passed. When Tony had played the chorus, he turned to Stephen and said, “This is the part you _seem to have missed_ \--”

_So love me or hate me_

_I'm not going anywhere_

_Leave me or take me_

_You still bear my signature_

_Know me or not_

_Seen or forgot_

_I'm not walking out on you_

Tears started rolling down Stephen’s cheeks. He couldn’t stop them, couldn’t control them. He felt his body shaking as Tony continued to play, his words rolling over him in unforgiving waves. If he hadn’t been so fucking proud he could have seen it earlier. Tony hadn’t been talking out of his ass -- he’d made the decision when he was twenty-five. He loved Stephen. Tony loved Stephen back then, even after they “broke up”, and his mind hadn’t changed in fifteen years. 

_I’m not walking out on you…_

Tony played the last few notes, tapering off as he realized Stephen was crying. They sat in silence for a few moments while Stephen collected himself. Tony rubbed his back but Stephen kept his face hidden in his hands. The silence was unbearable but Stephen couldn’t think of what to say! All he could hear was his pathetic sniffing, his nose running uncontrollably, and Tony just _sat there_. 

Stephen still hadn’t spoken so Tony played a few phrases of their favorite pop songs. It kind of worked, Stephen stopped crying, a smile threatening to overpower his trembling lips. Tony smirked when Stephen finally looked at him, and he winked, his skilled hands still playing music. 

“I love you, Stephen Strange. You will always be my baby,” He said, his face completely deadpan. Stephen let out a stifled laugh. Did Tony really just say that? “And I-ee-I will always love you.” 

“Mariah and Whitney, nice,” Stephen wiped the tears out of his eyes and Tony leaned his head onto Stephen’s shoulder. 

“I meant every word.”

They sat there for a while, Tony playing whatever songs popped into his head while Stephen tried to find steady ground again. Dinner could wait, wherever their reservations were. Stephen wanted to say something, say anything, but it felt daunting. He was wrapped up in the _coulda woulda shoulda_ ’s, but he knew he couldn’t change the past. The only thing he could do was move forward, but… what did that even mean? They had so much baggage, and most of it was with each other. Had fifteen years really put them in an appropriate place to set their shit aside and be together for real?

“Is the piano getting to you? Should I break out the trumpet?” Tony asked, his fingers still dancing over the ivory keys. Stephen shook his head _no_. “ I seem to remember that making you extra weak in the knees.” 

Stephen smiled as he remembered the brass concert where Tony had performed. It was a complete surprise and Stephen loved every second of it. The fact that Tony had kept his practice quiet, had coordinated with the band only because he thought Stephen _might_ like it… it was one of the most romantic things anyone had ever done for him. Tony took his silence as a signal of doubt and asked him a question as he continued to play. 

“What do I have to do to prove to you that I love you?” 

Stephen frowned. Tony probably deserved better at this point. 

“How can you love me?” He asked. “You don’t even know me.” 

Even to himself, his voice sounded alien and small, his insecurities playing as brightly as the notes coming from the piano. 

“I know you better than you know you,” Tony said, “And anyway, that’s a flimsy excuse. We have our whole lives to get to know each other again.” 

“I’m not very nice,” Stephen countered. He was beginning to feel terrible about everything -- his behavior over the past few weeks, his behavior fifteen years ago. He didn’t give Tony the chance to explain himself, now or then. Maybe _he_ was the dick in this relationship. 

“I’m not either. We can be the mean old gays,” Tony said lightly. He smashed his fingers on the keys and turned to Stephen, his tone suddenly serious. “Listen, I can go all day with this. You have questions and I got answers. It’s inevitable.” 

“What is?” Stephen didn’t know where Tony was going with that, and he wasn’t prepared for his response in the slightest. 

“I’m gonna make you fall in love with me all over again. And this time, I won’t let you go.” 

  
  


Oh, god. Stephen could feel the tears welling up again when Tony caressed his chin with his fingers, gently pulling him in for a kiss. His lips were soft, pliant -- his facial hair tickled Stephen’s upper lip and when his tongue darted into Stephen’s mouth, Stephen finally had to admit that this was real. 

Yes, he was sitting on a piano bench in a penthouse suite. Yes, he was finally kissing the man of his dreams. He felt Tony’s hand creep along to the nape of his neck, pulling him in to deepen the kiss. It wasn’t urgent -- they weren’t twenty anymore. Tony’s tongue swirled around his, tasting, remembering, and when he pulled back, their lips simply brushed and Stephen felt intoxicated as he felt Tony’s breath intermingle with his. 

They pressed their foreheads together, Tony’s hand still cupping Stephen’s neck, just sitting and breathing. 

“I missed you,” Stephen whispered, and he felt Tony’s grip tighten. He didn’t respond, choosing to capture Stephen’s lips again. When they broke apart, Tony traced a finger along Stephen’s lips. Their heated gaze met and Tony’s eyes blazed with want. 

“Let’s not waste any more time, then.” 

He slipped off the stool, walking backwards towards the bedroom door. He shook his blazer off of his shoulders and began to unbutton his shirt. Stephen leapt up and followed him. When Tony bit his lip, his fingers continuing to work on his shirt, Stephen couldn’t help but push him into the wall, their lips meeting in a bruising kiss. He devoured Tony’s mouth, taking back all of those years that they’d missed, grinding his need into Tony’s leg. He felt Tony’s hands fumbling at his fly. He palmed Stephen’s erection through his cotton underwear, his hand enveloped in heat. Stephen moaned against his mouth -- he’d missed this. He’d missed Tony. 

Enjoying the reaction he’d gotten, Tony pushed Stephen into the bedroom. He shucked off his pants while Stephen struggled to remove his own clothing on the bed. It would have made more sense to take his shoes off first, but it was kind of hard to think when Tony’s eyes were raking over his body. Maybe they should have taken their time to undress each other -- their bodies had changed over the years and Stephen practically came when Tony took off his shirt -- but there would be more time for exploration. He wanted to feel. He wanted to feel Tony’s skin against his, he wanted to feel Tony inside of him. 

Their clothes finally gone and strewn across the room, they stared at each other, soaking in each other’s appearance. There was just… more. More muscles, more hair, more to hold, more to touch. Tony crawled up Stephen’s body, planting kisses up his leg. His cheek brushed Stephen’s cock and Stephen jumped as he felt the scratch of Tony’s beard against his inner thigh. He looked down to where Tony parted his legs, his broad shoulders begging to be touched. 

He massaged Tony’s shoulders, his fingers pressing into smooth skin and firm muscle, and when he felt Tony’s lips close around the head of his cock, he lifted off the bed. Tony gripped his hips, forcing Stephen to stay still. He was teasing, dragging his tongue leisurely along Stephen’s length. One hand traveled up Stephen’s abdomen, tweaking his nipple, palming at the flesh of his adonis belt. 

“ _Tony_ …” Stephen moaned, and he felt Tony hum in response. He popped off Stephen’s cock for one moment. 

“I like how my name sounds on your lips,” He said, his voice low and husky. 

“And I like your lips around my dick,” Stephen looked down and Tony smirked, sliding off the bed to waddle towards the night stand, his cock jutting out proudly. Stephen didn’t think he’d ever get tired of that sight. Tony’s ass was perfect, and he stroked his cock lazily as Tony fished around the drawer to get what he needed. 

He hopped back onto the bed, this time along Stephen’s side, with a condom and lube. He smiled, bringing Stephen’s lips to his for another kiss. His hand trailed down to Stephen’s cock, grasping it firmly, before lubricating his fingers and prying Stephen’s legs apart. 

Their lips didn’t separate as Tony traced his fingers around Stephen’s rim. He felt Stephen’s breath hitch against his mouth as he dipped a finger in, massaging Stephen’s taut muscle. Stephen suddenly didn’t care if a steady moan was falling from his lips -- he didn’t care if Tony’s security detail could hear every gasp, every groan. Tony’s fingers were pure magic, twisting and pushing and prodding at Stephen in all of the right places. Stephen tried to get Tony’s cock in his hand but the angle was awkward. All he could do was hold his hand out and hope that Tony rutted in his general direction. Tony didn’t seem to mind, smiling every time Stephen held his breath.

“You like that, honey?” Tony’s voice dripped confidence. He knew very well that Stephen was enjoying the fuck out of this. 

“Could be better,” Stephen managed to say, his voice coming out higher than usual. Tony shifted and Stephen finally grasped his length, pumping his cock. Tony ripped open the condom wrapper and let Stephen roll the rubber down to the base. Stephen couldn’t rip the goofy smile off his face and he rolled fully onto his back to let Tony climb over him. Tony pushed Stephen’s knees up, his hands appreciatively massaging the back of Stephen’s thighs. Their eyes met as Tony took himself in his hand and let the blunt tip of his cock rest at Stephen’s entrance. Stephen loved the way Tony was looking at him, his eyes so full of _trust_ and respect, admiration, love… He didn’t know if it was the right moment but their gaze was still locked and he just had to say it. “I love you.” 

“I know, sweetheart,” Tony said so softly, and his eyes didn’t leave Stephen’s as he pressed himself into Stephen’s heat. Stephen’s eyes fluttered shut as he felt Tony sink in. He pulled his knees closer to his body, letting Tony’s hard length penetrate him deeper, moans coming from both of their mouths as their bodies got reacquainted. 

When Tony pulled out slowly, the wail that came from Stephen’s mouth was positively sinful. He could feel every inch of Tony’s cock, each throb as blood pulsed through his veins, each twitch as he struggled to hold on. Tony’s head was hovering somewhere over Stephen’s neck, his breaths coming out sharp and fast. 

“God damn it, you feel so good,” He growled, grinding his hips and Stephen whimpered as he became fully seated. One of his hands fisted at Stephen’s hair, pulling his head back to expose his neck. As Tony plunged into Stephen’s depths, he sucked at Stephen’s neck, biting, nipping, reclaiming Stephen as his own. 

The metered pace Tony had initially set quickly became bruising, his hips pushing Stephen into the mattress with each brutal thrust. Gone were the niceties, the polite introductions -- Tony wanted to cum and he wanted to do it buried in Stephen’s ass. Stephen was completely on board with that. He met Tony for every thrust, arching his back to lengthen the drag as Tony pulled out. Fifteen years hadn’t thrown off their rhythm and in his aroused haze, Stephen likened it to riding a bike, except it wasn’t a bike -- it was Tony’s dick. He smiled to himself but Tony didn’t notice, his breath coming out in pants as he was consumed by lust. 

He pushed himself up on his arms, looking Stephen in the eye. He slowed, his jaw clenched, and Stephen could see the telltale signs of an impending orgasm. He grasped Stephen’s cock and spread his precum over the head, pumping his cock in tandem with his thrusts. They watched each other’s faces, their severe looks of concentration and wanton bliss. Stephen tried to hold back his moan as Tony picked up the pace once more, leaning in to hit his prostate with every pound of his hips. 

“Don’t you dare,” Tony muttered, his mouth inches from Stephen’s. “I want to hear you fall apart. I want to hear you scream my name as you cum.” 

“Tony,” Stephen shuddered. His limbs were shaking, the spring in the pit of his stomach coiling tightly, begging for release.  
“That’s it, honey,” Tony rasped, and when he felt Stephen clench he coaxed him, “ _Yeah_ , just like that!” 

“ _Tony_...”

“Fuck, baby, c’mon,” Tony’s thrusts had become frantic, his pace faltering as Stephen writhed beneath him. He plunged himself in deeper, the curve of his dick massaging Stephen’s insides and he growled, barely able to hold on any longer. “Stephen, please 

“Tony, I’m…!” Stephen’s world dissolved into pure pleasure. He was no longer a person, simply a body flying high above the earth. He couldn’t even articulate as he felt his orgasm rip through his body, his cum shooting out in spurts, coating his chest. He was very loosely aware of the sound of Tony’s skin slapping against his; guttural groans emitting from his throat and with one final snap of his hips, they were soaring together. He could feel his muscles spasming around Tony, his hard length throbbing inside of him as he let go.

He woke to his stomach rumbling; he had hunger pangs from skipping dinner. Tony was awake and scrolling through his phone. Seeing that Stephen was also awake, he shot him a sly grin. Stephen didn’t know how else to read that look besides, _gotcha_. 

“You’re a jackass,” He said, not enjoying the smug look on Tony’s face. He seemed entirely too pleased with himself.   
  
“You are also a jackass, Mr. Strange,” Tony moved his arm so Stephen could snuggle up to him, sighing happily as he settled in. 

“That’s ‘doctor’ to you.”

“Meh, you’ll always be that scrawny server to me,” Tony shrugged. He kept scrolling through his phone and Stephen saw tidbits -- hundreds of messages, emails, missed calls. Looked exhausting. He decided to close his eyes and rest, listening to Tony’s heart beat in his chest. 

“Fifteen fucking years,” Stephen said after a few moments. 

“I know.” 

“Fifteen!”

“I _know_ ,” Tony kissed the top of his head and scooted out of the bed. He stood and patted his own belly, his stomach gurgling. “Waste not, want not. No need to ponder yesteryear. What do you want for breakfast? I’m starving.”

“Is that all you think about? Your stomach?” Stephen propped himself up on his arm, hand pushed into his cheek, to watch Tony throw on a pair of sweatpants. 

“Honey, you should know by now,” Tony shot him a look. “ _Yes_.” 

“This is a momentous occasion, Tony. I’m serious. We should be celebrating.” 

“Every morning is a celebration with you,” Tony said, crawling across the bed to plant a kiss on Stephen’s forehead. 

“That doesn’t make sense.” 

“Since when are you so sentimental? Look, I’m calling it in,” He walked towards the bathroom, one hand on his phone, the other readjusting his pants. “You still eat that tofu crap?”

“Yeah,” Stephen responded, flopping back into the silken sheets. The night had been wonderful -- they fell asleep in each other's arms and when Tony woke him up in the middle of the night for round two, he didn’t object. They took their time, not racing, finally understanding that they had the rest of their lives to give each other mind-blowing orgasms. It was comfortable and sweet, and Tony fell asleep inside of him. 

“Is tempeh okay? They don’t have any tofu,” Tony poked his head out of the bathroom, his phone plastered to his ear. Stephen gave him a thumbs up from the bed, still feeling completely exhausted. He couldn’t help but feel warm and fuzzy when Tony winked at him. “ _Ok yeah, two tempeh whatever-the-fucks. Do you have bacon today? The thick kind..._ ”

His voice trailed off as he walked back into the bathroom and Stephen rolled onto Tony’s side of the bed. Everything smelled like him, smelled like _them_ , and it was amazing how many things hadn’t changed in fifteen years. They still had chemistry. They still had affection. They still drove each other completely nuts but maybe that’s exactly what their love was. 

For once, for _once_ \-- everything about this felt right. He and Tony were finally together and there was nothing that could pull them apart. They still had shit to work out, definitely. But for the first time that actually seemed attainable. It couldn’t be for any other reason than fate that they would come together again after all of these years. 

He smiled into Tony’s pillow, still disbelieving the sheer luck of it all. 

The stars had finally aligned. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Song** :  
> How To Be Yours by Chris Renzema
> 
> Go ahead, listen to your favorite love song now. Personally I blasted "Always Be My Baby" by Brasstracks because... well you know. 
> 
> At any rate, thank you to all of you have read my indulgent fic, especially those who caught on in November! I love all of you guys and I'm so grateful for amazing readers like you. This was cathartic for me but I hope you enjoyed it, too. 
> 
> With that being said, please leave a comment and let me know what you think! I'm entertaining writing Tony's POV in a separate fic, and I'd love to know what you want to hear about, what you liked etc etc
> 
> I'm on Tumblr under the same name, but I'm super dumb with it (sorry Chocopiggy) but feel free to follow me there as well. 
> 
> I may post an epilogue (I just want the Bella's crew back together one more time, y'know?) but I don't have real plans for that, so the fic is officially finished. 
> 
> THANK YOU!! :)


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